TPDoEQ, vol III: The Wintering
by Lady Norbert
Summary: Elizabeth journals the adventures of the League as they pass the winter by visiting tropical countries, exchanging Christmas gifts, and celebrating the marriage of two of their own. But will it all be quiet and peaceful? Not likely.
1. A Grecian Turn

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert  
  
A/N: I'd just like to say I've really been overwhelmed by the amount of interest people have shown in this series. There may not have been a whole pile of reviews, but the personal emails I've received from a number of readers have been incredibly gratifying and almost life-affirming. I never really expected any of this. Thank you, everyone!  
  
You may have noticed that I've changed the name of this volume, which was originally going to be titled "A Grecian Turn." Owing to a number of details I neglected to investigate before announcing that name, I can't keep the League in Greece for very long, so the title no longer felt appropriate; I did keep it for the first chapter. "The Wintering," however, is appropriate, because that's pretty much what's going to be happening in here -- they're passing the winter. This volume is going to carry the _Nautilus_ through until March or so; therefore, you can expect it to be longer than either of the previous installments. I hope you like it anyway.   
  
Bit of a short start, really, but here it is. All set? Here we go!  
  
Standard disclaimer -- if you recognize it, I don't own it.   
  


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20 October 1899   
  
Over this morning's meal, we discussed our plans for the visit we intend to pay to Greece. Nemo insists that we not remain in these waters for more than a few weeks; the Mediterranean Sea is often visited by treacherous weather in the winter months, including what he terms "cyclonic activity." He will not risk harm to the _Nautilus_ by staying here past mid-November. We are little disheartened by this, for Greece is a comparatively small country; most of the things we desired to see can be visited within a matter of weeks. Moreover, should we decide we wish to see more, there is precious little preventing our return to these waters in the future.  
  
Greece has only in recent years claimed its independence from the sprawling Ottoman Empire, to which it had previously belonged for a very long time. The country is in the process of attempting to liberate all Greek-speaking nations from the Empire, to reform the Greece of history. We would prefer to remain entirely apart from the political proceedings, of course, but Nemo feels this will not be difficult.  
  
I am looking over my diary entries of this year, this last year of the nineteenth century. It seems quite impossible that I have been in the company of the League for only two months! Easily, they have been the most eventful, dangerous, and altogether exhilarating months of my life. Who could have guessed that I would be where I am, and with whom?   
  


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22 October 1899   
  
Today we disembarked the _Nautilus_ in the Greek town of Piraievs, not far from Athens. There is the faintest chill of impending winter on the air, but on the whole the weather is still quite pleasant. We will travel through the countryside to Athens, there to visit the Acropolis; after a day or so in the capital, we will take a rail journey farther inland to see Mount Olympus, once believed to be home to the ancient Greek gods. I am writing this quickly, while Nemo and his men arrange our transport. I will most likely not get the chance to write again until we reach Athens.  
  
Oh -- Skinner does make me laugh! He wants to know why the Greeks had a god of wine (Dionysus), but no god of Scotch.   
  


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23 October 1899   
  
We are staying for a few days at a small, quaint rooming house in Athens proper; I wonder how old it is. The whole of Athens gives one the feeling that one has gone backward in time -- all in the best sense, of course. Indeed, at one time, the city in which we now find ourselves was the hub of learning and culture in the known world.  
  
The Acropolis can be seen clearly by day and night alike, but we are waiting until tomorrow to make the climb, for today it is raining. Our hosts in the rooming house have suggested that, should we feel ambitious, we make the trip at night; the ruins are said to be particularly spectacular by moonlight. I do not know whether I am willing to make such a climb twice, but Mina at least seems interested in the prospect.  
  
I have been doing a bit of reading about the Parthenon, the greatest of the buildings at the Acropolis, and have learned some fascinating things. It was a temple dedicated to Athena, the patron goddess of the city of Athens, also the goddess of wisdom and war. (Odd combination, if you ask me.) It has been standing since the year 438 B.C., and took ten years to complete.   
  
The inside of the Parthenon is divided into two rooms. The west room was the Treasury Room. It's nearly as wide as the Parthenon is tall, and was where the treasury of Athens and the Delian League was stored.  
  
The east room is called the Naos, and it houses the Parthenos -- the great statue of the goddess. Athena reaches very nearly all the way to the ceiling. In one hand she holds a statue of Nike, goddess of victory, who is taller than most men; Nike holds a garland with which she is about to crown Athena. The war goddess is, for reasons I fail to understand, adorned with snakes. There are no less than eleven snakes depicted on her armour, belt, and bracelets. She was carved by the sculptor Pheidias, with ivory skin and gold garments, and is believed to have been perhaps the greatest statue in all of ancient Greece.  
  
Growing up in England, I am quite accustomed to being surrounded by ancient structures; the city of Bath, for example, has existed since the Romans ruled our island. Even so, I am amazed at the longevity of such a work of art as the Athenian Parthenos.   
  


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24 October 1899   
  
Days like today make me wish I were an artist! The view from the top of the Acropolis is really breathtaking. There is something quite thrilling about being seated among the ruins of the ancient civilization, gazing out over the beautiful blue sea.   
  
First we had to climb many, many stairs through a series of ruined buildings called the Propylaia, which included a temple to Nike. The Acropolis was ringed round by a defensive curtain wall, and this was the only way to enter; even though a large portion of that wall is now gone, the stairs are still the easiest access point. This was a long and slightly treacherous climb, as the steps are old, but I was never far from someone to help me if I stumbled. Below us as we climbed, we could see what remains of the immense open-air theatre called the "Odeion of Herodes Atticus." This interests me; the theatre was not built until 161 A.D., which means that as ancient as it is, by the time it was added to the area, the Acropolis was already some five hundred years old!   
  
We went into the Parthenon itself, which made me almost fearful, as though I had no right to trespass. But I am glad we did, for the statue of Athena is extraordinary. Even if I were an artist, I would not have attempted to draw an accurate representation of the statue; it is simply something which must be seen in person in order to be perfectly understood. Even Skinner was reduced to silence.  
  
After touring the Parthenon, we all sat outside and enjoyed an excellent picnic lunch which Nemo's men brought for us. It was a wholly delightful afternoon, and made the difficult climb to the top of the hill well worth the effort. I have not picnicked in ages, and certainly not in such a diverse and splendid company. In some regards, I took more pleasure from watching my friends than I did from observing the ruins.  
  
I sat on a rock with a lap full of the last of the wildflowers which grow on the Acropolis hill; I amused myself by winding these into a garland. Mina sat on another rock not far away, and Henry -- jacket off, sleeves rolled up, and looking perfectly the picture of contentment -- was lounged on the grass with his head against her knee, reading to us from Homer. If I could draw, I would have drawn a portrait of the two of them. She looked no less content than he did, with her hat off and her hair unbound, and it was such a sweet picture I wish I could have recorded it.  
  
Nemo too sat regally on a stone, uncharacteristically relaxed. Tom and Skinner preferred to emulate Henry, and made themselves comfortable on the grass. Skinner, once he had finished eating, pillowed his head on one arm and seemed to drop off to sleep. I finished making my floral garland and draped it over his head, and his mouth twitched, so I knew he wasn't really sleeping. The weather was pleasant, the wind light, and the day was just altogether marvellous. At times like these, I feel less like I am among friends and more as if I have a family.  
  
The sun is all but down, and we are to take our evening meal in the dining room. I can't begin to pronounce the Greek dish we will be eating, much less spell it, but it amounts to rice and lamb wrapped in grape leaves.   
  


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25 October 1899   
  
Well, this is hardly a surprising development -- and yet even so, we were not prepared for it!  
  
After dinner last night, Henry asked Mina if she wished to make the climb again, to view the Acropolis by moonlight as our hosts had recommended. She agreed, and while the rest of us lingered over the table, they made their way back up the hillside.  
  
I don't know details, of course, and it would be terribly improper to press on this subject, but I do know they were gone for quite some time. They returned so late, in fact, that I for one had already retired for the night; whether the others were still awake, I do not know, but for whatever reason they waited until breakfast to make the announcement.  
  
Henry has asked Mina to marry him. She said yes.  
  
It is incredibly delightful to see how happy he looks! Apparently, from what little reference was made, even Edward is quiet and content at this particular time. Mina too appears very happy -- in point of fact, she seems gentler and warmer than she ever has. We know very little about their courtship, which has largely taken place quite privately. I am aware that the recent experiences in Egypt brought up many bad memories for Mina, and that Henry was a great source of comfort; they were already in the process of growing close, and the closeness was only increased by the events. I think each is just what the other needs to cure their loneliness.  
  
I wish I knew how the proposal went, exactly. It must have been terribly romantic, among the stones and ruins with the moon overhead. I do envy her for that. He presented her with a marvellous engagement ring, which we all -- myself especially -- admired this morning; I have to wonder when he had occasion to purchase it, for it is rather singular. Perhaps in Alexandria? Or did he get it as long ago as when we were in Paris? That seems more likely, though I wonder at his foresight, or his patience, whichever virtue enabled him to keep it so long. The engagement band features a sparkling diamond, the stone of commitment to love, flanked on either side by deep red garnets, the jewel of truth and faith.   
  
Nemo has promised to celebrate their joyful news with a splendid banquet upon our return to the _Nautilus_. There has been no talk yet of the ceremony date, but it seems quite probable that they will wed before the year ends. I am extremely pleased for the happy couple, of course, though I was concerned for Tom -- I think his attraction to Mina still lingers. If this is true, however, he has perfected the skill of concealing it, for he congratulated Henry most enthusiastically and wished Mina every happiness imaginable.  
  
Today and tomorrow we will simply amuse ourselves in the city of Athens as we like; after that, we board the train which will take us to see Mount Olympus. The train will also be an excellent way for us to view a larger portion of Greece than we otherwise might. As I understand it, we will take a different rail route on the way back to Athens, thus doubling the amount of countryside we will be able to see.  
  



	2. Tea and Sympathy

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert  
  


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27 October 1899   
  
All is being made ready for us to board the train which will take us north to view Mount Olympus. We have been busy and occupied for the past two days, so I have not had much opportunity to describe our exploits.  
  
Two days ago, following the engagement announcement, we discussed what we would each like to do while we are here. Henry and Mina, who are enjoying that curious state which seems to fall upon couples who have recently pledged their devotion, elected to go off on their own to explore; they mentioned wanting to visit the Athens National and Archaeological Museum, which was only erected ten years ago. We are not often in the habit of touring in separate groups, but under the circumstances, the rest of us agreed to indulge the newly-betrothed pair.  
  
The hotel (though I think it's a bit too small to really merit the name) where we have been staying is located in Plaka, the oldest neighbourhood in all of Athens, which surrounds the Acropolis. It's a very picturesque locality. Nemo proposed hiring an open-air carriage to convey us around the city, simply to view the different sights as much as possible. So the four of us presently found ourselves behind a pair of enormous horses, being drawn through the streets of Athens and able to admire the scenery on either side.  
  
It may be wondered that I would engage in such a breach of propriety as to travel openly in a carriage with three unmarried men. It should be remembered, however, that Nemo is my guardian for all intents and purposes, and therefore spending time in his company is no more questionable than if my own father were here. I make note of this here not so much for my own awareness as for that of anyone who may chance to read this volume after my death; I can assure the reader that, in the capacity of my guardian, Nemo is a perfectly acceptable chaperone.  
  
We left Plaka and began to tour the city, which is quite large and, of course, very old. It is to be regretted that we did not have time to stop and visit all the fascinating sights we encountered, but there is always the possibility of a return visit in the future. I will endeavour to describe here, so that I may remember, some of the more significant landmarks we passed in our drive.  
  
One monument which must be remembered is the Temple of Zeus Olympios. Our driver, who fortunately spoke very good English, told us that, although the temple is not nearly on the same scale as the Parthenon, it took more than five hundred years to be completed. It was started in or about 515 B.C., but could not be finished owing to political upheaval; an attempt was made to complete the project in 174 B.C., but it was not until the second century A.D. that it was actually done. The Roman emperor Hadrian -- the same one for whom Hadrian's wall is named -- was responsible for its ultimate completion. It stands somewhat in ruins now, of course, but it once included 104 Corinthian columns and a statue of the god Zeus which, like the Athena Parthenos, was made of ivory and gold.  
  
I should have liked, if opportunity had presented itself, to visit the National Library of Greece. It is the largest library in the entire country, only fifteen years old, and contains hundreds -- thousands -- of books in many different languages. We also passed the National University of Athens, an exquisite citadel of learning.  
  
Another crumbling monument, nevertheless beautiful in its deteriorated state, was that which was erected by the grateful residents of Athens to their benefactor, Julius Antiochus Philopappos. He was an exiled prince of Commagene who settled here and held various civic offices. The driver said that this too dates from the second century.  
  
We stopped for a late luncheon in the bustling little marketplace neighbourhood called Monastiraki, which I am told means "little monastery." It is there that we will board our train this afternoon. Luncheon was the first time any of us really spoke all day, we were all so captivated by the sights of Athens. Even during the meal, conversation was at a minimum; I cannot speak for the gentlemen, of course, but my mind was too busy contemplating everything I had seen. Then too, for part of the luncheon we were entertained by a small group of musicians , who played traditional Greek instruments. The music was wonderful.   
  
After luncheon we browsed the marketplace a bit, merely out of curiosity. We actually had the opportunity to watch men operating an olive press to make oil. One of the workers told us there is a legend that the goddess Athena planted an olive tree in Athens because nothing else would grow here. In any case, olive oil is a very important part of the Greek economy, as is wine; the locally-grown grapes are superb, and we purchased some to enjoy after dinner that night.  
  
Yesterday was the Sabbath, and I attended services at the Pantanassa Church in Monastiraki. It is on account of this church that the neighbourhood is called "little monastery," because the church was called the Great Monastery in the seventeenth century. It was the first time I've been in a position to observe the Sabbath in a church since we left Paris, though I'm not sure how much good it really did me. Naturally, the services were in Greek, which I do not understand! But at least I did not have to go alone. I elected to attend that particular church because it is the church of our hosts in the boarding house, so I accompanied them, and both Tom and Skinner went as well. I think we three were all a bit amused by our inability to follow the service.   
  
It is nearly time to depart for the train station. We are travelling north, and the journey is expected to take a few days; it is more than one hundred miles to the coastal city of Lamia. From there we will continue north to Larisa, the capital of Thessaly, and then to Katerini. Rather than delay ourselves by leaving the train and journeying to Mount Olympus itself (which is not near any of the towns with rail stations), we will simply content ourselves with the view from the distance. It is a massive feature of the landscape, visible for many miles in all directions -- and as Skinner pointed out, the ancient gods are "probably not home." Our rail trip will continue to the northeast and conclude in the city of Thessaloniki, located on an inlet of the Aegean Sea. We will most likely relax in that city for a day or so before making the return trip to Piraievs to meet the _Nautilus_.  
  


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30 October 1899   
  
We are in the rail car, still making our way north. We have left Larisa and will shortly be arriving in Katerini, from which we should have a very good view of Mount Olympus -- if the weather cooperates, that is. We are now in Greece's wet season, and there has been a great deal of rain. As a result, our ability to observe the countryside through which we are passing has been somewhat hindered.   
  
Even if the weather is agreeable, there is a chance we may not get to see the mountain after all. Mount Olympus is frequently shrouded by low-hanging clouds and mist, giving the ancient Greeks their belief that it extended all the way up to the heavens. They believed that Zeus, the king of the gods, made his home at the pinnacle, as did the other eleven major gods and goddesses of their pantheon. There they feasted on nectar and ambrosia, the foods which enabled them to retain their immortality, and enjoyed music and drama by the Muses and Graces.   
  
To amuse us in spite of the weather, Henry has continued reading to us all from his volume of Homer; indeed, he should be reaching the end of the book today. I have brought along the handkerchiefs I purchased in Egypt and have begun to monogram them for Skinner's Christmas gift. There are six, so I am embroidering the initials "R. S." in six different colours -- one each of red, blue, green, gold, black, and brown. It has been difficult to actually do this without letting him see what I am doing, since he is never far away, but half the fun of giving a gift is maintaining secrecy from the recipient. So I'm doing my best.   
  
Only two of Nemo's men remain with us; the rest have returned to the submarine to notify the first mate of our intentions. It is, therefore, a very small and private party here, and we rather like it that way.  
  


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30 October 1899   
  
The weather is slightly less dismal today as we approach Katerini. I think I have caught sight of Mount Olympus through the gloom, but it's hard to be entirely sure.   
  
Fortunately, I almost don't mind, for we have had a fascinating topic of conversation to distract us. Mina and Henry have begun planning their wedding ceremony. Mina is a bride for the second time, so tradition dictates that it be an understated affair; however, her first wedding consisted of exchanging vows at the bedside of Jonathan, who was very ill. Therefore, she would like to actually have a small celebration this time, and as it will be Henry's first marriage, it seems only fair.  
  
I suppose I had Christmas on my mind because I was working on the handkerchiefs. Then too, the holiday season is popular for weddings, because it's considered lucky. With that in mind, I proposed that the wedding take place at Christmastime, and we combine the marriage celebration with a Christmas party. I was concerned that I might offend Nemo with this suggestion, so I made it very hesitantly, but he seems to find it an interesting notion. After all, he has never observed Christmas before, and when we told him some of the traditional activities done at a Christmas party back in England, he grew more enthusiastic.  
  
It has been decided that after we leave Greece, we will return to London to begin making preparations for the wedding and for Christmas. Henry has asked Nemo to stand as his best man, and Mina requested that I be her bridesmaid! I am both delighted and honoured. Unlike the last time I was a bridal attendant, this wedding will be nothing but joyful.  
  
The wedding ceremony will take place on Christmas Eve, in the large meeting chamber aboard the _Nautilus_; Henry knows of a minister whom he believes will agree to board the submarine to perform the nuptials. We will have a gift exchange among ourselves following the marriage. The newlyweds will disembark and spend their wedding night in London, alone, then return to us the following day for dancing, games, and merriment. This, indeed, will be a Christmas to remember.  
  


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2 November 1899   
  
Yesterday was quite a startling day.  
  
We arrived in Thessaloniki as planned; the weather continued to be terrible. Nemo was just instructing his men with regards to hiring a carriage for us when, to our very great surprise, one arrived bearing none other than the first mate!  
  
Jaya is Indian, like Nemo himself, but younger and beardless. He alighted from the carriage and bowed to Nemo. "The _Nautilus_ awaits you in port, Captain," he said.  
  
"For what purpose?" asked Nemo. He sounded bewildered, and the rest of us were exchanging glances of equal puzzlement. "It was not our intention to board here."  
  
"I know, Captain, and I apologize if I have overstepped my authority. But we received a communication two days ago, which I believe is important enough to warrant your expedited return to the ship." A second carriage pulled up and more of his men exited; they began at once to transfer our belongings to the conveyances.  
  
"Communication? In what form? And from whom?"  
  
"A telegraph, sir, from a Dr. Max Draper in Germany."  
  
I was the only one who failed to recognize the name. The others all looked no longer apprehensive, but interested. We boarded the carriages and, en route to the dock, they explained to me that Dr. Draper was one of the scientists they had liberated from Moriarty's stronghold in Mongolia the day my father died. He was a somewhat elderly gentleman, but quite brilliant in his scientific pursuits.   
  
We returned to the _Nautilus_ and immediately made our way to the conference chamber, which is adjacent to the ship's telegraph office. The officer in charge of operating the equipment bowed and presented a printed sheet to Nemo, who took it and studied the contents. I watched his eyes grow large with astonishment.  
  
"This is most unexpected," he said softly.   
  
"What does it say?" asked Henry.  
  
"Dr. Draper sends us all his good wishes and sincere thanks for our rescue efforts of several weeks back," Nemo read. "He and the other scientists have had a discussion, and they have information they think may be of use to us." He paused, as though he wasn't sure whether he should tell us the rest. "It would seem," he said finally, "that they still have the formula for the invisibility serum, the one they were forced to study and work out in the laboratory in Mongolia. He is aware that one of our company is invisible, and if we desire the formula for the original serum, we may be able to use it to create an antidote."  
  
To a man, we all turned to look at Skinner. "Wait a minute," he said slowly. "You mean they've got the goods on how Griffin made the stuff? I might be able to turn back?" He pulled a chair away from the table and sat down heavily.   
  
"If you wish, I can contact Dr. Draper right away and get the information," said Nemo.   
  
"Do you still want to be visible, Skinner?" asked Mina.  
  
He didn't answer. He took off his dark glasses, revealing the blank holes where his eyes reside in his head, and rubbed his face in a gesture of world-weariness. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at each of us in turn; his eyes met mine last of all.  
  
"I don't know," he said quietly. He looked serious, which is so rare for him. Abruptly he got up and left the room.  
  
We all looked at each other.  
  
"I thought he wanted this," said Tom.  
  
"Think about it, Tom," said Henry. "Skinner becomes visible, and suddenly he's an ordinary man again. His invisibility is both a blessing and a curse, and if he gives it up, he's giving up a huge part of his identity." Of all the men in the world, I knew that Henry could probably best understand what Skinner was feeling at that moment, so I believed his observation to be true.  
  
We stood there in silence for a moment. Finally, since no one else seemed inclined to do anything, I said, "I'm going to go find him."  
  
"Assuming you can see him," said Mina.  
  
"Assuming I can see him," I agreed. "I don't think he ought to be alone right now."  
  
Finding an invisible man in the world's largest submarine makes looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack look like child's play. He was not in his own quarters, nor the library. At length I inquired with some of the officers as to whether they had encountered Mr. Skinner, and one was finally able to tell me he'd gone up on the deck.  
  
He stood at the railing, staring at the sea. It was still raining, of course, and the greasepaint was more or less melting off of his face. The sky was terrible, and the waters of the Aegean looked dangerous. I could hear a rumble of thunder in the distance.  
  
I stepped onto the deck and closed the door; immediately my clothes began to dampen and stick to my skin. He heard me walking across the deck and turned. "Blimey, Bess, what do you think you're doing? You'll catch your death up here!" He shrugged off his leather duster and wrapped it around my shoulders, his own clothing at once beginning to saturate.  
  
"Are you all right?" I asked him. I had to raise my voice; the submarine had started to move.  
  
"Yeah, but you won't be if you stay out here."  
  
"Then come back inside with me." It thundered again.  
  
"I need to think."  
  
"And you can't think where it's dry?"  
  
"I just needed to be alone." He glanced at me meaningfully, but I wasn't having it. I may not be an Extraordinary Gentleman, but I'm extraordinarily stubborn when circumstances warrant.  
  
"I don't think you _should_ be alone right now."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Rodney, if it were me, would you have let me come up here alone?"  
  
I had him there, and he knew it. He exhaled noisily. "No."  
  
"Thank you. Now let's both go in before we catch pneumonia. I'll make us some tea."  
  
Reluctantly, he followed me back down the ladder. We managed to avoid being spotted as we made our way through the submarine to my quarters, where I gave him a towel and a dressing-gown. "Not the most flattering thing for you to wear," I admitted, "but it's the most manly one I have. Go behind that screen over there and get out of your clothes."  
  
"I've often dreamed of women ordering me to get out of my clothes," he said saucily, "but never like this." I ignored him -- when he's being particularly, well, Skinnerish, it's the only thing to do -- and set to work with dried ginger. Nemo has provided me with a small burner, not unlike the one Mina uses to heat chemicals, and I used it to boil some water.  
  
By the time Skinner emerged from behind the screen, I was steeping the dried ginger in the teapot. I was not prepared for how ridiculous he looked; with the greasepaint washed away, my dressing-gown looked as though it were walking around entirely on its own, and I could not stop laughing for a minute or two.  
  
"What? Don't I look fashionable?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, very." I poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward him. Sitting down, I poured a second cup for myself and said, "Now, why on earth did you go outside?"  
  
"Couldn't stay there, could I, with you lot looking at me." He took a sip of tea, and I stared as the liquid slid down his invisible throat.   
  
"Didn't you once tell me that the reason you joined the League in the first place was because they promised you a cure?"  
  
"Yeah," he admitted. "But I didn't think I'd be staying on after we saved the world, you know. Thought it'd be goodbye and good riddance to old Rodney Skinner."  
  
I had my cup halfway to my lips when something occurred to me. "Are you concerned about staying with the League if you take the cure?"  
  
He didn't answer. I took that to mean yes.  
  
"Oh, but they wouldn't ask you to leave," I said earnestly. "You're -- you're one of the League. You're a part of the team." He didn't seem to be looking at me, so I pressed on. "You're a part of this _family_."  
  
"Family?" He gave a funny laugh. Then he hesitated. "I guess you could call it that, couldn't you." It wasn't a question. We drank our tea in companionable silence for a moment.   
  
"What do you think I should do?" he asked finally.  
  
I admit I was taken aback by the question. I would have expected him to ask Henry, or perhaps Mina -- would they accept a cure for their unusual conditions, if given the chance? I could hardly be said to be an expert on much of anything. I sipped at my tea, considering.  
  
"I can't say what I would do in your situation," I conceded. "But speaking as your friend...I think you should do whatever will make you happy."  
  
He chuckled. "Wisdom for the ages, Bessie." He drained his cup. "Not bad," he added, indicating the tea. He stood up, so I did the same. I removed the duster, and he removed the dressing-gown, and we traded; he took his sodden clothing from where he had draped it over the changing screen.   
  
"Thanks for the tea and sympathy," he quipped. As I watched, my hand was lifted from my side and raised to a pair of invisible lips in that familiar gesture of mock chivalry.  
  
"Any time."  
  



	3. The Quatermain Legacy

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert  
  


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4 November 1899   
  
We are, as I intimated previously, now sailing out of the Mediterranean region and making our way to England. We will visit London for a few days to purchase necessities for the wedding and for Christmas. Mina will be handling the majority of the wedding details, as is the bride's prerogative; for my part, I have been placed nominally in charge of the Christmas arrangements. The gentlemen seem to feel this is a task best suited to the fair sex, and as there are only two of us (and one is a bit busy), there were few candidates. Nemo is financing all of the decorations as, he says, his gift to the bride and groom, and has urged me to purchase whatever I feel is necessary to the occasion.   
  
Skinner's disposition is much improved since his impromptu bath in the storm. The information regarding the invisibility serum has been procured from the German scientists, though when Henry and Mina will actually start working on the cure is uncertain; they are, after all, very naturally preoccupied these days. I think Skinner was a bit concerned that I might divulge his real concerns to the others, but I of course would do no such thing, and he seems to have realized that I've kept my silence.   
  
I seem to have picked up a mild cold from having gone out after him in the rain; it's nothing serious, but my head does ache a fair bit and I'm wheezing just slightly. A day or so of rest and hot tea should set me right again without difficulty.   
  


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7 November 1899   
  
It's taken me a bit longer to throw off the cold than I anticipated, but I'm quite well now. Tomorrow I am going to finally make use of the key Nemo gave me, and begin sorting through my father's possessions. I am rather nervous about the project, in truth, for I really haven't the first idea what to do with half of what I'm about to find.   
  


----------

  
  
8 November 1899   
  
What a surprisingly painful day...where do I begin?   
  
I found any manner of excuses to put off actually entering Father's room until after luncheon. Over the midday meal I mentioned to Nemo that I would be in there, and asked him to have someone come and fetch me for tea. After we adjourned from luncheon, I made my way to the appropriate corridor and unlocked the door.   
  
The rooms were meticulously neat, of course. That didn't surprise me; Father was ever fond of order. I wasn't certain where I should actually start, so I went to the bathing area, which seemed safest. The usual toilet articles were there -- his shaving supplies and so forth. I'd forgotten what a handsome shaving set he possessed; the handles of the brush and razor are sterling silver, the case fine leather.   
  
My first real pang came when I began to sift through his wardrobe. The clothes still smelled of him. I have few memories of Father from my childhood, but the smell of him is something that stays with me. Whether it's a memory, or the memory of a dream, or simply something I invented on my own I have never been sure, but I have a brief image in my mind of being a very small girl, seated on his lap and starting to fall asleep; he smells in the memory as he did in life, of outdoors and Scotch and the faintest smell of gunpowder. I really don't know what to do with his garments -- obviously they're of no use to me. Except for one or two items of particular sentimental value, I believe I will box up the majority and deliver them to one of the local charities when we reach London.   
  
Next I opened the large trunk at the foot of his bed. I remembered this steamer trunk well, for it went with him everywhere he travelled. It contained a fair number of books, a supply of gunpowder and bullets, and -- I lifted it out of the trunk in surprise -- Matilda, the elephant gun. Tom told me that he had given Father a modified Winchester like his own, which Father had then taken to using. I stared at Matilda as though I could not believe what I was seeing. Surely I could not just toss away something which had been so important to him; Matilda had been like an extension of Father's own arm.   
  
And that was when it struck me. I will present my -- our -- friends with items of Father's for Christmas. They were his friends before they were mine, and they remember him fondly, so I think it will be very meaningful for them to receive personal keepsakes of his. Matilda, of course, will go to Tom; I decided that straight away.   
  
Now I had a mission, which was to find suitable gifts for the others among his possessions. I spent the next few hours going through boxes and chests, sorting out what to keep and what to give away and what will go to charity. I found his portable secretary, a handsome wooden case containing pens, inkstands, postage, and other manner of writing implements; I have a similar one of my own, so this one I shall give to Henry. There is an elegant mahogany glove box with silver inlay which I will give to Skinner, with his handkerchiefs inside. I believe I will give Nemo his pocket watch, which was a birthday gift to Father from Harry; he stopped carrying it on his person after Harry died, but always kept it polished and in finest working order. Mina, naturally, was the most difficult one for whom to find a gift, and I ultimately removed all the articles from a small, many-drawered chest on his dressing table; I do not know where he acquired such an interesting jewel-case. I call it that for that is how he used it -- for the storage of cufflinks, button-holes, and other amenities one would not normally associate with rough-and-ready Allan Quatermain. Father was a far cry from a dandy, but I suppose even he needed to keep such items on hand for the occasional wedding or other formal event. The little chest seems to be made of ebony, the drawers lined in red velvet, and I believe Mina will like it.   
  
I hope they all like their gifts.   
  
Having settled on presents for each of the League members, I set to work going through his desk. This was where I really came undone. Most things in the desk were unremarkable -- blank papers, a personal address directory, and the like. But in the bottom-most drawer I found a box, much like one would use to hold cigars. Inside was a small pile of photographs.   
  
The top photograph was of Harry, as he appeared in the months just prior to his death. Beneath this was a wedding portrait of my parents, which I had never before seen. I stared at my mother's face in wonder; her features were similar to my own, though in colouring I more closely resemble Father. This was painful enough, to look upon my parents as they once were, but further heartache was to come. The third photograph was of myself, in infancy, most likely commissioned by Aunt Adelaide and sent to Father; I recognized her handwriting on the back of the photograph. _Elizabeth Grace Quatermain, April 1880, aged seven months._   
  
And then there was the fourth picture.   
  
It was like looking at the memory of which I wrote in a previous paragraph, the one I am never quite certain is truly a memory. I was perhaps six years old, no more than seven, and Father was holding me on his knee. Harry sat beside us on the davenport, a young man in his late teens. I have no recollection of this photograph ever being taken. Father looks handsome: younger, partially bearded, and with an expression of pride and fondness on his face the like of which I rarely ever saw. One hand he had pressed to Harry's shoulder; the other was secure around my waist, holding me close.   
  
Tears had been threatening throughout the afternoon, as I saw this book or that object I remembered from his life. But the sight of this photograph was more than I could bear, and I could no longer hold them back. I crossed to the dressing-table to retrieve a handkerchief from the drawer, and into this I began to weep in earnest.   
  
Unfortunately, after only a moment or so of crying, I heard a tap at the open door and someone stepped into the room. I was unable to stop weeping swiftly enough to avoid being observed, and my face was still hidden in the handkerchief when I heard him speak. "Bessie?"   
  
I wiped my eyes hurriedly. "Is it tea time already?"   
  
"Yeah...you all right, love?"   
  
"I'm fine. I just need a moment."   
  
Skinner hesitated, as though trying to decide what to say. "Really, I'm all right. I'll be down in just a moment." I gave him a watery smile, still wiping my face.   
  
He nodded. "See you in a bit, then." I really think he was unsure what to make of the situation, but bless him, he gave me the privacy I desired. I heard him walking down the corridor, though a bit slower than usual.   
  
I left the room, locking it as I went, and returned to my own quarters to wash my face and smooth my hair. Once I was satisfied that I looked presentable and not at all upset, I made my way to join the others for tea. No one seemed to think anything was the least bit amiss; Skinner alone gave me a querying look as I sat down. I smiled at him again, grateful that he had clearly not mentioned my outburst to anyone. Mina then engaged me in a conversation about, of all things, wedding attire, and tea time passed without incident.   
  


----------

  
  
9 November 1899   
  
I believe I am still amazed at what transpired today. But I should start at the beginning.   
  
Today I returned to Father's room to begin packing of such articles as I intend to dispense to charity. I spoke with Nemo over breakfast, who sent two of his men to collect a number of suitable cartons in which to put the items; I went to the room and unlocked it, and they left these on the floor for me to use as needed. As I was just opening the wardrobe to begin, I heard knocking.   
  
"Thought I'd come and see if you needed a hand," said Skinner. "Got nothing planned for today, so maybe I could be useful."   
  
I think he really wanted to make sure I was going to be all right, and that I wouldn't be alone if I started weeping again. This was, in my estimation, incredibly sweet of him; but I was not about to embarrass either of us by acknowledging his intentions. "If you wouldn't mind, that would be lovely," I said. "I don't need help so much, but I'm always glad of your company."   
  
He grinned. "Just tell me where you want me."   
  
"Open that box for me. I'll start folding the clothes, you put them in the cartons."   
  
We didn't speak much for the next hour or so, being industrious. But that's an odd thing about my friendship with Skinner; as much as I enjoy conversing with him, and as often as we have sat deep in discussion about this or that, we have just as often sat very comfortably in perfect silence. It seems a little peculiar, I admit, but it's very liberating to have a friend who is content to simply be near you.   
  
We filled one carton with shirts, another with pants, and a third with undergarments and shoes. "The boxes can just stay in here until we reach London," I said. "Wait here, I'll be back in a moment."   
  
I took the articles I had cleared from the small drawered chest (the one I've earmarked for Mina) and transferred them to the glove box I plan to give Skinner, and in this surreptitious manner took his present to my room. I returned with some more cartons, smaller than those holding the clothes, and into these we slowly began to pack the personal items I intended to keep. I found I could now look upon the photographs of my family without tearing up, and these I showed to Skinner,   
  
"You look like your mum," he said. "I can't believe Allan was ever that young."   
  
"Neither can I," I admitted. "When Harry died I was still a girl; it seemed like Father aged overnight."   
  
I opened the steamer trunk in order to remove Matilda, as well as the gunpowder and shells, and put them in yet another carton with the other Christmas gifts. I examined the titles of the few books which were in the trunk, decided to keep two for myself, and set the others aside for the ship library. There were a few maps in there as well, and some documents in an unfamiliar language which I thought I would discuss with Nemo.   
  
There was a knock at the door. We both looked up to see Jaya, the first mate, bearing a large tray.   
  
"Pardon the intrusion, Missee Sahib Quatermain," he said. "The Captain thought you might be ready for your luncheon and asked me to deliver this to you and Mr. Skinner." He set the heavy tray on the desk; it held sliced meats and cheeses, rolls, fruit, and a flagon of cold tea. "He thought you would rather remain at your task rather than join the others." I thanked him and asked him to thank Nemo as well, and we took chairs on either side of the desk and fell to eating.   
  
The luncheon was just what we needed, and I returned to the tasks at hand with renewed vigour. I finished emptying the steamer trunk and studied it critically. "This was my grandfather's trunk," I said. "I think I'll take it to my room...I rather want to keep it. It's not very deep, but I can make use of the space."   
  
"Looks deep," Skinner mused. He was still at the desk, popping the last few grapes in his mouth; he swallowed these and came over to examine the trunk. "Hang on..." He looked inside, then at the exterior and back again. "This isn't right. The trunk's deeper on the outside than on the inside." He dropped to his knees and started searching the interior. "It's got a false bottom, or I'm not the world's ultimate thief."   
  
I knelt beside him and watched, fascinated, as he started working with the base of the trunk. It appeared seamless to me, and I thought he was really mistaken. Suddenly there was a popping noise, and the entire bottom of the trunk was lifted out and set aside. We stared.   
  
Beneath the false bottom of the trunk was...money. There was also a small fireproof box, which opened to reveal documents and a bank passbook, and a letter from a banker in London which verified the contents of an account. I took everything and carried it to the bed, where I spread it out to examine more closely. The pound notes were bundled in stacks of fifty; they totalled six hundred pounds Sterling. According to the letter from the bank clerk, the London account holds a further ten thousand pounds. It would appear that the Quatermain legacy is marginally intact.   
  
In the space of ten minutes, I went from being penniless and dependent on the goodwill of my father's friends to...well, I'm not exactly wealthy -- not like Father had been -- but I am comfortably well off. I am no wizard at matters financial, of course, but as I understand it, I will never need to worry about money for the rest of my life.   
  
"Skinner...please go get Nemo." The shadow at my elbow vanished at once.   
  
I will not bore myself, nor any other possible reader, by recounting the entire conversation Nemo and I had about the fortune. Suffice it to say that he assured me of his assistance in managing my windfall, and refused my offer of some of the money to repay him for his kindnesses. "It is yours entirely, Elizabeth, as I have no doubt Allan intended."   
  
"You're sitting pretty now, Bess," said Skinner. "You don't even have to stay on the sub anymore." He seemed a bit subdued, although that may have been my imagination.   
  
I looked at Nemo, who nodded. "That is true. You are now in a position to leave us, if such is your desire."   
  
"I...no! I would much rather stay -- that is, if you'll permit it?"   
  
Skinner grinned openly, and Nemo chuckled. "Of course. There is always room for a Quatermain aboard my vessel."   
  
After he left, I turned to Skinner. "I don't know what to say."   
  
"Well, that makes two of us. Quite a day you're having, eh?"   
  
"And if it weren't for you, I'd never have found it. I'd have that trunk in my room and there'd be a small fortune buried under my summer clothing." I shook my head. I wanted very much to thank him somehow, but I feared I might offend him if I offered him some of the money. "You always are there when I need you, Rodney, even if I don't know that I need you."   
  
He looked rather gratified by that little speech, though neither of us said anything further on the subject. I gathered up all the documents and bills, returning the paperwork to the little fireproof box, and put it back in the trunk. We put the false bottom in its place and closed the lid. "It'll have to do until I can figure out a better idea," I said briskly. We each took one of the handles at either end and, with only a bit of difficulty, transported it to my room.   
  
We finished sorting through Father's belongings for the rest of the afternoon, without any further extraordinary discoveries. Before joining the others for tea, I collected Father's elegant shaving kit from his bathing area. "I really don't have any need for this, Skinner," I said. "And it's too nice to just give away to strangers. Can you make use of it?"   
  
I kept my tone as cavalier as possible. Though I would have preferred to be honest, and tell him I wanted him to have it as thanks for all his help, I feared I might make him uncomfortable. By acting as though he would be doing me a favour by accepting the gift, it made it far easier for him to agree gracefully. "Are you sure?"   
  
"Oh, yes, please take it."   
  
"Well, all right, as you can't use it. Thanks, Bessie." We made our way to the stateroom to join the others, and tell them my news.   
  



	4. Toasts, Turkey, and Tenderness

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert   
  


---------------

  
  
12 November 1899   
  
I have not written for a few days because, in truth, there has been little of which to write.  
  
The news of my newfound windfall was received with both surprise and expressions of congratulations. The others inquired, as Nemo and Skinner had, whether I would continue to remain aboard the _Nautilus_, to which I replied that it would be my privilege to remain in their company so long as they continued to welcome me. If I may be very honest, I am somewhat astonished that everyone feels the need to ask this. I have what amounts to a family for the first time in my entire life, and I cannot fathom why anyone would expect me to give that up unless I had no choice.  
  
Tonight Nemo held the engagement banquet for Mina and Henry, as he had promised to do. At half past six, we all reported to the stateroom for dinner; the nature of the celebration moved us all to dress more formally than we are in the habit of doing, and I was at once amused and delighted by how elegant my companions looked. Nemo's men outdid themselves with the dinner preparations, and we followed the meal with a splendid red wine Henry had purchased in Athens. Each of us, in turn, spoke a toast to the bride and groom.  
  
Nemo offered a blessing from his native India, in which he said he wished them "_dharma, artha_, and _kama_." These are Hindustani words which mean, respectively, enlightenment, wealth, and true love.  
  
"Well, I'm Scottish," said Skinner, when we had drunk to this. "My family's from Glasgow, originally. So here's my favourite Scottish toast for you two: May you be happy and may your enemies know it!" Coming directly after Nemo's serious and lovely tribute, this seemed twice as funny as it might otherwise have done.   
  
I took my turn next, having remembered (after a moment's hard thinking) of a pretty toast I heard at a wedding some years ago. "May your troubles be less and your blessings be more, and may nothing but happiness come through your door!"  
Finally Tom offered his toast. I wondered what he would say, for I had been curious as to how he was truly feeling about the engagement. I longed to ask him on a number of occasions, but did not quite dare; though we confide in each other fairly often, this seemed beyond delicacy.  
  
He raised his glass to Mina and Henry, and we followed suit. "I only know one toast," he admitted. "I heard it when my half-brother Sid got married a couple years ago. May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings, slow to make enemies and quick to make friends, and may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward." He looked a little sheepish as he concluded the remark, but Henry and Mina both appeared gratified, and we drank heartily.  
  
Then, to conclude the toasting, Henry offered an Irish toast to his bride. "I have known many, and liked not a few, but loved only one -- and this toast is to you." He then ventured to kiss her for the first time in front of the rest of us, and we could not restrain ourselves from applauding.   
  
I do believe this is going to be the most wonderful wedding I have ever seen.   
  


---------------

  
  
14 November 1899   
  
Oh, to be in London again, what a strange feeling! We shall be here for a number of weeks, not only to prepare for our remarkable holiday, but to visit some of the sights of the city. Tom has expressed a desire to see what can be seen while we are in the vicinity, and Henry too longs to be able to look upon London once more. (I keep thinking of how I had heard he was dead, and wonder how he intends to explain that to anyone he meets who recognizes his name. I have decided not to ask him, however, as it seems too cheeky.)   
  
After having been in the Egyptian desert and the Mediterranean sun, foggy London seems even more damp and gloomy than ever it did when I lived here. Indeed, we all agreed the weather was too miserable to venture into the city on this, our first day here. Instead, we remained aboard the submarine, pursuing our various interests; I had another chemistry lesson with Mina, and I think I'm becoming a bit more skilled than I was. I've completed two of the monogrammed handkerchiefs for Skinner and made a list of things I wish to purchase for the herbarium while I have access to the shops with which I am familiar.   
  


---------------

  
  
15 November 1899   
  
Only a brief entry today, for I'm quite tired. The weather was little better today than it was yesterday, but nevertheless I hired a carriage and delivered the boxes of Father's clothing to one of the local charities. Tom accompanied me, interested to see what he termed "ordinary city life" in London, and after the donation was thus rendered we went to the apothecary. I was pleased that the owner remembered me, though it has been many months since last I visited his shop; he inquired as to what I had been doing, and I gave him the vague answer that I am taking the 'grand tour' of Europe with friends of my father's. He offered belated condolences on Father's passing, and -- to prevent any possible suspicion of impropriety -- I introduced Tom as my cousin. This amused him greatly, and he participated in the ruse rather agreeably.   
  


---------------

  
  
16 November 1899   
  
A bit of a sad day, in truth, though illuminating in some respects.  
  
When I dwelt at Solomon Manor, I had access to the private chapel on the grounds, and it was there that the servants and I heard weekly church service. So today I had to decide which of London's churches I would attend. I settled on St. Mary's at Hill, owing to its close proximity to the river, and selected a grey ensemble which matches not only my eyes, but the dreary sky above us. I was pleased when the rest of the League members, save Nemo, decided to join me for service.  
  
After church, I saw a young girl, dressed rather poorly, attempting to sell flowers to the parishioners as they exited. I was moved by her plight -- she could not have been more than nine years old -- and gave her a ten-pound note in exchange for all of the flowers she carried. Her eyes widened at the sight of the money, and she snatched it from my hand and raced off. If there is one especially nice thing about suddenly having money of my own, it has to be this.  
  
I joined the others in the carriage, and gave the driver instructions to take me to Norwood Cemetery, not too far away. It had been so long since I visited my mother's grave, and as I had the flowers in hand already, it seemed like an appropriate time.  
  
"Do you want us to wait for you?" asked Henry.  
  
"Thank you, no. When you get back to the submarine, send the driver to Norwood again. I should be finished by the time he returns."  
  
So, alone, I made my way through the silent graveyard. It took me a few minutes to remember where she is buried, but I found her at last. Her headstone was slightly overgrown with ivy, which I cleared away to reveal her inscription. _ Grace Quatermain. Born 1841, died 1879. Beloved wife of Allan._   
  
The stone thus cleared, I arranged the flowers I had purchased in a tidy pile on the grass, then sat back on my knees. I am not in the habit of speaking to the dead, but as I contemplated her grave, I wondered what Mother might have thought of the state in which her daughter now lived. Would she disapprove of the life I have chosen? Or was she a merry spirit, as I sometimes think she must have been, who would have seen this as a great adventure? Head bowed, I murmured the Lord's Prayer, then stood and brushed at my skirts.  
  
Well, you can imagine my surprise when I turned toward the gate and saw Skinner waiting. He came toward me then, pulling off his hat. "You came with the carriage?" I asked him.  
  
"Yeah. You gave me ideas...it's been awhile since I visited my parents too." He stopped at the foot of Mother's grave and, surveying the stone, inclined his head in a gesture of respect which touched me deeply.  
  
"Are they also here?" He had never mentioned his parents before.  
  
"Over there." He pointed in the direction of the gate where the carriage awaited us. I bent and took a few of the flowers from Mother's grave; I almost whispered an apology, but something tells me she would have understood.  
  
We walked back to his parents' graves, and I put flowers in front of each of their white stones. Adam and Martha. I noticed that their date of death was the same. After we had returned to the carriage, I inquired (as delicately as possible) what had befallen them.  
  
"Wagon accident," he said. "I was seven. Don't remember it too well. My brother was already married, so I went to live with him. He's gone too, and my sister-in-law didn't like me well enough to keep me." He looked out the window as we rolled through the streets. "I've got a niece, somewhere. Alexandra. Haven't seen her since she was two; she's a bit younger than you, be about eighteen now."  
  
"You've been alone all this time?" And I thought _I_ was lonely.  
  
"Pretty much, 'til M found me. I didn't start out as a thief for the fun of it, you know. But it was either that or starve. Didn't have much left from my parents, and Beatrice -- my sister-in-law -- took her fair share of what there was, believe me. Got away with what I did because I stole it from her, if you want to know the truth."   
  
The sympathy I was feeling must have shown on my face, because he gave me the old grin. "Don't take on so, Bessie. My life's been a bit of a mess, but it's all right, really. It was good until my brother died, and it's good again now." We had reached the _Nautilus_, and after paying the driver, we boarded.  
  
"There you two are," said Mina, when we reached the stateroom; the others were beginning luncheon. "We were starting to wonder."  
  
"Just been taking a stroll down memory lane," Skinner said casually, shedding his hat and coat. He helped himself to a sandwich, pulling a chair away from the table as he did and waving at me to sit in it.   
  
"I can't believe you folks actually lived in this city voluntarily," said Tom. "This is the gloomiest place I've ever seen. Does the sun ever shine here?"  
  
We settled into a discourse on climate, but I didn't forget about Skinner's family. Poor dear thing. I think all the members of the League have spent a lot of time being terribly lonely, and that this is why they -- we -- have come to mean so much to each other.   
  


---------------

  
  
19 November 1899   
  
Today I had the unusual experience of shopping with Mina for her wedding trousseau.  
  
We bade goodbye to the gentlemen at half past twelve and headed into town. I admit I was a bit nervous about the prospect, for Mina and I are not close. One would think that we would be, given that she and I are the only women on the entire submarine, but we are rather different people. Granted, this is partly due to _what_ she is, but it mostly has to do with _who_ we are.   
  
We freely admitted to each other that trousseau shopping was a new experience for both of us. That fact alone seemed to break the ice a bit, for it made us laugh. There is hardly a need for her to purchase items such as towels, bed linens, and the like, for she and Henry intend to remain aboard the _Nautilus_ for some time yet. Instead, the most important purpose of today's excursion was to find attire for each of us to wear during the wedding ceremony, and also a dress to wear on Christmas day for the reception and festivities. As we headed toward the shopping district, we had a discussion about colours.  
  
"I can't wear white," she said. "You could, certainly, but I can't. It's my second wedding, it wouldn't be right."  
  
"Blue might be good," I offered. "You know what they say -- 'Married in blue, your love will be true.'"  
  
"If I go by that rhyme, there aren't too many options, are there?" she asked dryly. "It seems to me that most of the colours foretell bad luck. 'Married in black, you'll wish yourself back.' I suppose it's a good thing these rules don't apply to the men; I've never seen a bridegroom wear anything but black."  
  
"Green would match your eyes," I suggested next.  
  
"Yes, but I'm not 'afraid to be seen,' you know. No, I think you're right, blue is probably the best option. Dark blue."  
  
"Well, that takes care of 'something blue' straight off!"  
  
Mina is very good at shopping. I might not have guessed it of her, but she has almost an instinctive feel for exactly what she likes and what she wants, and where to find it. She located the perfect sapphire-coloured gown at a reputable clothier, and I sat around for half an hour while the seamstress made alterations to her specifics. I felt a little sorry for the woman; I sensed she wanted to make suggestions, as she might have done with any other customer, but she seemed a little afraid of Mina. Our vampire lady was at her most imperious, which is to say regally commanding in a way that would have been a match for Queen Victoria herself. As she was not directing any of the sternness toward me, I could afford to find it amusing.  
  
"Now," she said when the alterations were complete, "this young lady is to be my bridesmaid. What do you suggest she wear?"  
  
I was then subjected to critical analysis by the seamstress, who advised dressing me also in blue, but of a lighter shade and simpler styling. So it was my turn to stand on the stool for alterations, and Mina sat and waited. "Nemo," she remarked, "will most likely wear blue, as usual. So the pair of you will more or less match."  
  
For the festivities, Mina chose a pearl-coloured suit, which set off the snap in her icy eyes; I will be wearing Christmas green. Then there came the necessity for the bride to select more intimate apparel for her wedding night; for this I decided she ought to be left entirely alone, and waited with the carriage.  
  
The bouquets for bride and bridesmaid will wait until we come to purchase our Christmas decorations, which will also be of a botanical persuasion; therefore, the only remaining task for today was to help Mina decide on a wedding gift for her husband-to-be. This was quite difficult, for she meant to buy not one but two gifts -- one for Henry, and one for Edward. I questioned the logic of such a plan, but she pointed out that in a very real sense, she will be marrying both of them. "I certainly hope and expect to see far more of Jekyll than of Hyde," she said, "but do you think it would be fair for me to neglect one side of the man, simply because it is the less desirable aspect?" I had to concede that she made sense, but I had no idea what we might purchase for Edward.  
  
Henry was a much easier subject. At a jeweller's shop, she selected a pair of diamond cufflinks. "He and I will exchange our gifts the day before the wedding," she said, "so he can wear them. Have you started your Christmas shopping yet? I haven't."  
  
I chuckled. "Will you hate me terribly when I tell you I'm finished?"  
  
Package-laden, we returned to the submarine in time for tea with the men. Apparently there was some discussion, prior to our arrival, about arrangements for Henry's "bachelor party" the night before the wedding. Mina and I said nothing, but we exchanged looks of commiseration.   
  


---------------

  
  
24 November 1899   
  
We have been busy for the past few days, showing Tom and Nemo the sights of London. Thus far we have paid visits to the White Tower, St. Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, and Westminster Palace. Today we will visit Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery.   
  
Apparently, back in his native America, on Thursday Tom would be celebrating Thanksgiving. When the original English expatriates settled in Massachusetts some centuries ago, looking to worship in the manner they chose (as opposed to the manner dictated by the King), they established an annual feast as a means of celebrating the harvest and their continued survival. He has asked Nemo for permission to celebrate the holiday with all of us, though it took some explaining. At length, Nemo consented, reasoning that "there can be no harm in celebrating something which is intended to give thanks." So in a few days, we will be enjoying a sumptuous banquet featuring a roast turkey. Between the engagement dinner, Tom's Thanksgiving, and our impending Christmas feast, I should perhaps look into purchasing a new corset.   
  


---------------

  
  
27 November 1899   
  
Today was Tom's holiday, and he really seemed quite delighted to be presiding over the event. He claimed the privilege of slicing up the giant roast turkey and serving a portion to each of us; there was also plenty of banquet fare distributed to Nemo's hardworking men.   
  
He also insisted that we obey what I found a rather charming custom from his America, which is that we were each asked to name, in turn, something for which we are grateful. To start us off, he declared that he was thankful concerning his most recent communication with the Secret Service in Washington, the agency to which he reports; it is the President's desire that Tom continue to work with the League, protecting people (and American interests) around the world.  
  
"Well, I'm thankful," said Mina, "to be here. After Jonathan died, I thought I was doomed to a miserable immortality. I'm grateful to know that I was wrong."  
  
Henry looked shy when his turn came. "I'm thankful to be among people who accept me for what I am," he said, "and who can even love me for who I am." Mina didn't say anything, but patted his arm fondly.  
  
"Well, don't hold back, Henry, tell us how you really feel!" said Skinner. (Who else?)  
  
"You, be quiet," said Mina. "Unless you'd care to tell us what _you're_ thankful for, I'm sure we'd all like to know."  
  
He pondered the subject. When he spoke, I felt my breath catch in my throat. "I'm thankful for Allan," he said.  
  
"For Allan?" asked Nemo.  
  
"Yeah. I mean, without him, who knows what might have happened?" Skinner has a gift for eloquence, though it shows itself but rarely. "He helped keep us together when things would have driven us apart. He's the only one who figured out who M really was. And he went in to fight him even though he knew he might not come back. The world is safe today, and it owes a fair bit of that to Allan Quatermain. Here's to you, old chap." He lifted his glass of Scotch and looked at the ceiling. We all followed suit, I with tears in my eyes.  
  
"For my part," I said, my voice wavering slightly, "I would have to say I'm thankful not only for my father, but _to_ my father. Everything Skinner said of him is true, and when he could no longer be here himself, he sent all of you in his place. He gave me a new family to replace the one I no longer had."   
  
Nemo chuckled. "I cannot begin to offer a new thought on this subject," he said, "for each of you -- Elizabeth especially -- has said exactly what I am thinking."  
  
"Can you feel the love in this room?" asked Skinner. Tom threw a roll at him.  
  
"Let's eat," said our host.  
  
I am quite full, to the point where I strongly suspect I will never eat again. The food was nothing short of spectacular.   
  
Only two more days until December, when our Christmas preparations can really begin.  
  



	5. Nautilus Family Christmas

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert   
  


---------------

  
  
30 November 1899   
  
It is the fifth Sunday prior to Christmas, and so it was today that the preparation of the plum pudding had to begin. With Jaya's assistance, I went yesterday and purchased all of the needed ingredients, and today the cooks started to make the actual treat. In fact, there will be no less than five puddings -- one for the League and myself, and the other four to be shared by the crew members. It is my Christmas gift to them, as thanks for how hard they work to keep us all comfortable.  
  
I supervised the creation of the League's pudding, and Jaya watched; he then instructed the cooks in their own language how to make the others. Once all the ingredients were put together, the other members of the League were summoned. I had to explain the matter to Tom and Nemo; plum pudding is considered good luck, and they say that wishes made while stirring the pudding will come true. So each of us stirred the pudding and made a wish, and then it was placed in a bag and hung up. Every Sunday between now and Christmas, we will take it down and stir it again.   
  


---------------

  
  
2 December 1899   
  
It is snowing! London looks much prettier for it; the whiteness helps to alleviate some of the gloom from fog and soot. I have had to wear my warmest cape, the black wool with the ermine trim, for our ventures into town lately.  
  
We continue to be busy in our sightseeing. There are things beyond London which I wish we could visit; I should, for instance, love to travel by rail to the northern part of the country where Stonehenge sits. But that, I think, will have to wait until another time. It may be that we can return after our trip to Tom's America; we shall have to see.   
  
Today Mina and I went to town and ordered our bouquets for the wedding, as well as purchasing the necessary greens and other ornamentations needed to decorate the _Nautilus_ for the festivities. We returned early and set to work at once. We are limiting the decorations primarily to the stateroom, where we take our meals, and the library, where we spend most of our leisure time. There is now a Christmas tree standing in each, trimmed in gold and silver. Wreaths adorn the doors, pine garland is draped from velvet ribbons attached to the walls, and on a whim, I purchased a differently-coloured stocking for each of the League members; I will hang these in the library after I finish embroidering the names on each. Mina found the idea terribly amusing.  
  
The festivities of Christmas day will be held in the stateroom, where we will have what amounts to a supper ball -- dancing before and after our meal, as well as storytelling and games. It is also here that the wedding will take place on Christmas Eve; therefore, the decorative efforts were concentrated here. Skinner and Tom happened to enter just as I was perched on a ladder, hanging the final decoration from the ceiling.  
  
"Is that what I think it is?" Skinner asked incredulously. "I haven't seen one of those in years."  
  
"It is precisely what you think it is," I told him. "We are having a wedding here, after all -- I thought it was appropriate."  
  
"What is it?" Tom was eyeing the unfamiliar ornament.  
  
"We call it a kissing bough," I replied, tying the ribbon securely. It is a particularly jolly thing, I think, and it's certainly the biggest one I've ever seen. Two rings of evergreen boughs are joined together with ribbon streamers which extend to all corners of the room, and these rings are adorned with holly, fruit, candles (which we won't light until Christmas day), and a large sprig of mistletoe in the centre.   
  
"On Christmas day," I told him, "anyone who is caught standing under the bough must accept a kiss from whoever stands nearest." Satisfied that the bough hung straight and neat, I descended the ladder, which one of Nemo's men promptly took away. "I think we're set, gentlemen. This should be a merry holiday."  
  
"What else do we need?" asked Tom. "Anything I can do?"  
  
I considered this. "I have stockings for everyone, which I'll hang in the library, but we do need things to go in them. Fruit is good, of course, but I don't think it'll be quite right without crackers."  
  
"Crackers?"  
  
I explained about crackers, the Christmas noise-makers which, when pulled apart, spill their contents all over the floor. "They're filled with toys, puzzles, treats, all manner of good things."  
  
"And we need wassail," said Skinner. "Can't sing Christmas carols without a glass of wassail to wet the throat, can we?"  
  
He was quite right, of course, and I'd neglected to think of it. "Tomorrow," I said, "we three will all go and buy these things."   
  


---------------

  
  
3 December 1899   
  
There are no words to adequately describe the experience of Christmas shopping with Tom Sawyer and Rodney Skinner.  
  
It proceeded quite usually, at first. We purchased a large quantity of crackers, a few more trinkets to hang from the Christmas trees, and some extra candles. I also remembered to buy the symbolic objects to be concealed inside our plum pudding. The pair of them took turns vanishing into various shops to buy things; I myself went to visit London's finest silversmith, to purchase a tea tray for Mina and Henry's wedding gift. It's a very pretty thing, sterling silver and oval in shape, engraved with their names and the wedding date. I really did not know what else to give them.  
  
Lastly, we went to buy the ingredients for the wassail, the hot punch shared with Christmas carollers. I'd had to search through the library to find the right recipe, for in truth, I have never before made it myself. I sent the gentlemen into the liquor store for sherry, ale, and cider, while I myself went to buy the needed lemons, apples, and spices.  
  
They took longer than I did, so I milled about, examining the special holiday items in the windows of the shops. I spotted a small, handsomely crafted wooden Nativity scene in one, and went in to buy it for my own quarters. As the proprietor handed me my package, I turned to leave and found myself nose-to-nose with, of all people, Constance Stuart.  
  
"Elizabeth!" she cried warmly.  
  
"Hello, Constance." I wanted to return her warmth, but it was difficult. Constance was once my best friend, but the friendship cooled a great deal after she married. I was her bridal attendant, and she had the groom I wanted for myself.  
  
In he came then -- Robert. He was not quite as handsome as I remembered, in truth, but I still felt slightly weak when I beheld him. We shook hands cordially.  
  
"I heard your father passed on earlier this year, I'm so very sorry," said Constance. "Is it true that you've quit Solomon Manor?"  
  
"Oh -- yes, it's true," I said. She phrased it in a way that made it sound like the move had been entirely my choice, and I decided not to correct that presumption.  
  
"Well, where are you now? I've not seen you in so long!"  
  
"I've gone to stay with friends of Father's," I said truthfully. "We are touring Europe together; we've just come back from Greece. Right now we're preparing for two of them to be married on Christmas Eve."  
  
We exited the shop while we talked, and I found Tom waiting by the door. Constance gave him a discreet once-over, taking in his stature and blond hair. "Oh, Tom," I said, "I'd like you to meet Robert and Constance Stuart." Wondering if he'd remember our conversation of some months prior, I added, "I was in their wedding."  
  
A flicker of confusion darted across his face, but was immediately followed by perfect comprehension. "How do you do," he said politely, shaking hands. "Tom Sawyer. My wife's told me all about you."  
  
Wife?  
  
"Your -- your wife?" Constance was visibly startled. "When did you get married?" she asked me.  
  
"Very recently," I said, hoping I didn't look surprised. She had no idea _how_ recently.  
  
"We should go, dear," Tom continued, relieving me of my purchase and giving me his arm. "The carriage is waiting, and we've still got a lot to do before we go home. It was very nice to meet you both," he added, lifting his hat. "Have a good Christmas."  
  
I managed to keep perfectly quiet until we were back in the carriage, where Skinner was waiting for us. "What kept you two?" he asked.  
  
Tom and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.  
  
"Whatever possessed you to do that, Tom?" I asked, when I'd recovered my wits sufficiently. Skinner looked thoroughly bewildered.  
  
"I couldn't help it," Tom said, still chuckling. "I remembered what you said, about that guy tossing you over for your friend because of the money, and I had to say something. I heard you telling them you live with your father's friends and I didn't want them thinking you'd turned into a charity case."  
  
"Did you see their faces?" I asked. "Connie especially -- she looked positively stunned."  
  
"Is somebody going to tell me what I just missed?" Skinner demanded. I told him the whole story, starting with my hopes for a marriage to Robert and concluding with Tom's antics on the street, and then he too laughed. "Oh, I wish I'd seen that!"  
  
"I consider myself very well revenged, Tom. Thank you." I wiped my eyes on a handkerchief; I'd laughed so hard I was actually crying. "Have a good Christmas, indeed!"  
  
"I'm a little miffed, though, you two," said Skinner. "Why wasn't I invited to the wedding?"  
  
"Rodney, if there ever is a wedding, I promise you'll be there," I said dryly. "But I wouldn't get my white gloves ready just yet."  
  
"Ah, so no secret engagements going on here?"  
  
"No, Skinner," said Tom.   
  
I'm sure I'm imagining things, but Skinner almost seemed relieved at this. Did he really think I'd keep such a secret from him?   
  


---------------

  
  
5 December 1899   
  
It has been some years since I was this anxious and excited for Christmas. I feel like a child again.  
  
I have finished embroidering names on the stockings and hung them in the library. Similarly, I am almost finished with Skinner's monogrammed handkerchiefs; there is one yet to be done.   
  
I spent a large portion of today getting the other gifts ready. For the first time in my life, I was grateful that Father taught me to clean and polish a rifle, and I spent nearly an hour thus caring for Matilda. I packed the gun, powder and shells into a carton, which I then wrapped in paper and tied with string; I must be very, very careful not to drop or damage it.  
  
Mina and Henry's gifts, being made of wood, also took a fair amount of polishing, as did the box for Skinner. I have removed most of the articles from Henry's secretary, though I've left two brand-new bottles of ink and a new pen. The pocket watch for Nemo I buffed until I could see my own face in it. All the gifts, save Skinner's, were wrapped and concealed in Father's steamer trunk.   
  


---------------

  
  
7 December 1899   
  
Fourth Sunday before Christmas, which meant another stir of the plum pudding. I wonder what the others are wishing when they take their turns. I have made the same wish both times, and I feel silly for doing so, but in truth I have little left to want. The only way my life could possibly be any better than it is right now would be if I found true love; I do envy Mina.  
  
If it does not happen, however, I still have no cause for complaint.   
  


---------------

  
  
13 December 1899   
  
Today was Skinner's birthday. I think he believed I'd forgotten the conversation in which he let that piece of information slip, but I had not, and we observed it with a cake after dinner not unlike the one they gave me. I know he knew I was responsible -- no one else was aware of it -- but if he is angry with me, he has concealed it well. Indeed, he seems more amused than anything.  
  
"First birthday cake I've had in ten years," he commented. I was seated opposite him at the table, and while the others were eating their cake and chatting, he caught my eye and lifted his glass to me. I think I am safe in assuming he isn't angry.   
  


---------------

  
  
16 December 1899   
  
Why is Christmas not here yet?  
  
The plum puddings are coming along beautifully. Skinner's handkerchiefs are finished, and his present wrapped and stored like the others. We have gone out a few evenings, just before sunset, to view the lovely decorations that the shopkeepers of London have displayed in their store windows, and to see all the homes with candles burning. Sometimes we pass groups of carollers performing on street corners, collecting for charity, and we stop to listen and make a contribution. I rather enjoy giving my money away -- "scattering largesse," as Skinner calls it.  
  
With the Christmas preparations all but finished, and the weather not often cooperative for sightseeing, there has been little to do. More often than not, we find ourselves congregated in the library (with the occasional exceptions of Henry and Mina, who are enjoying 'private time' as any engaged couple would). Nemo has a splendid chess set made of carved ebony and ivory, ornamented in gold, which has been put to good use. To help pass time in the evenings after dinner, I have located a copy of Charles Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_, and we take turns reading the story aloud. It is a longer book than I remembered, so it should help carry us right up until Christmas Eve.   
  


---------------

  
  
21 December 1899   
  
More of the same, all week. After church today, Henry engaged the services of a minister who has agreed to perform the wedding aboard the _Nautilus_. I think the poor man must be a little confused, but he is apparently being a good sport about the odd arrangements.  
  
Today is the last Sunday before Christmas, which meant the final stirring of the plum puddings. After everyone finished stirring and made their wishes, I put the symbolic trinkets into each of the five and explained their meanings to Jaya, so he could tell the other men to be careful of their teeth when biting into the dessert. There are three items which went into each pudding -- a silver coin, a ring, and a button. Whoever finds the coin will become wealthy, the one who finds the button is destined to remain a bachelor, and the one who finds the ring will be married within the coming year. In all my years, I have never yet found anything embedded in my portion of the pudding, so I could not say whether there's any truth to the superstition.  
  
On Christmas day, the bags containing the puddings will be taken down. The puddings will be doused in brandy and then set on fire, and served with a garnish of holly. It is the last course of the Christmas meal; we will also enjoy a succulent goose, soup, fruit, nuts, and mince pies. A light breakfast will be served at the usual hour of the morning, and there will be a Christmas tea at five in the afternoon; otherwise, we will have nothing but the dinner, starting at two. The pudding will be served at nine; after we have eaten it, the festivities will be over.   
  


---------------

  
  
23 December 1899   
  
Mina and I are hiding, in a manner of speaking, in the library. Upstairs in the stateroom, our gentlemen friends are hosting a "bachelor party" for Henry, with drink and song. Noisy brutes.  
  
I took the opportunity of our solitude to present her with a small keepsake -- a tiny gold horseshoe, to sew into the hem of her wedding dress for luck. She in turn gave me a bridesmaid gift of an elegant silver hand mirror. If she is at all nervous about tomorrow, she hides it admirably. The ceremony will take place at three in the afternoon; the minister will join us afterward for a celebratory toast and dinner. The meal should once again be magnificent, though hopefully not too much so -- there is the Christmas feast to think of, after all! Once the minister has left, we will exchange Christmas gifts, and then Henry and Mina will depart to spend their wedding night at an unknown location in London. In keeping with tradition, only Nemo -- the best man -- knows where they will be, and he cannot tell anyone.   
  


---------------

  
  
24 December 1899   
  
Christmas Eve, at last! And what a marvellous day it has been.  
  
Mina took breakfast in her quarters, for she and Henry of course could not see each other before the ceremony. Everyone knows that's bad luck. There was an early tea instead of luncheon, and she took that alone as well, but I finished early to go and join her. Henry -- who looked endearingly nervous -- handed me a tiny jeweller's box and asked me to deliver it to his bride.  
  
The box turned out to contain a pair of beautiful diamond earrings, which Mina decided to wear as her "something new." For "something old," she had a pair of gloves which her first husband once gave her, and as we are fortunate enough to wear the same size, I lent her a pair of black boots with braided laces for "something borrowed." "Something blue" was the dress, so all that remained was a lucky sixpence in her shoe -- and I made certain there was one in the boot before I gave them to her.   
  
I helped Mina to dress, then went to my quarters to put on my bridesmaid attire and pin up my curls. I put on a tiny pendant of my mother's and my best white gloves, and I was ready for the ceremony. Our bouquets, which consisted of cream roses intermingled with holly sprigs, had been delivered in the morning.  
  
The happy hour at last arrived, and we made our way to the stateroom, where the gentlemen were waiting. I preceded her into the room, which gave me the chance to observe Henry when she appeared. A wonderful smile lit up his face and stayed there for the rest of the day. I stepped back to allow Mina to take her place at his side, and after she handed me her gloves and bouquet, the ceremony began.  
  
As I was not the bride, I did not pay strictest attention to everything the minister said, though of course I bowed my head in prayer at the appropriate moments, and listened when Henry and Mina recited their vows to each other. In between, however, I allowed my gaze to wander around the room a bit. Jaya and a number of the other crew members were assembled against the walls, looking like a small army. Nemo, in his most pristine blue garments, appeared calm and pleased. Tom, for whom I'd had such concern, was actually smiling. Beside him sat Skinner, who, when my gaze passed over him, gave me a little grin. The three cakes -- the bride's cake, the groom's cake, and the actual wedding cake -- were displayed on a table to one side, surrounded by our gifts to the bride and groom; Christmas gifts were heaped under the tree in one corner. All the candles were lit, and as on other occasions, I wished I could preserve the image forever.  
  
This was a wish that would actually be granted. The ceremony finally ended with the bridal kiss, after which we all applauded, and I found I had tears in my eyes. The Jekylls (how funny to call them that!) both looked rather rapturous. I returned Mina's gloves and bouquet, and the minister stepped forward to stand between bride and groom. One of Nemo's men came forward with a great flash camera, to take a wedding portrait. I moved closer to Mina, and Nemo moved closer to Henry; at Henry's beckoning Tom went to stand at Nemo's side, and Skinner came to stand at mine. Thus we were captured.  
  
After the portrait was taken, the men shook Henry's hand and saluted Mina on her cheek, wishing him congratulations and her happiness. I moved to congratulate him likewise; he was positively beaming.   
  
"Elizabeth," called Mina. I turned, and she tossed her bouquet very lightly into the air in my direction. Of course I caught it easily -- there were, after all, no other girls to compete with me for it -- and I studied it in bemusement. "What am I to do with this?" I asked her, teasingly.  
  
"Use your imagination." She actually winked.  
  
The wedding supper was, of course, rather lavish; there was lobster, tea sandwiches, and all manner of rich foods. The wedding cake was cut, and the minister sent off with a few slices for himself and his wife.   
  
Well fed, we all gathered around the Christmas tree to exchange our gifts before the newlyweds departed. Skinner was elected to play St. Nicholas and hand the gifts around to the recipients.  
  
"I should explain something to all of you," I said, before anyone had so much as torn a corner off of a present. "My gifts to each of you were my father's. You know that I have been going through his possessions, and as he considered you all friends as much as I do, I thought it was only right to give you each a remembrance of him. So you can see that all of my presents are tagged 'from Elizabeth and Allan,' and I'd like you to think of them as gifts from him as well as from me."   
  
"That's...that's real nice of you, Elizabeth," said Tom. His words were slightly husky, and I looked at him.  
  
"Tom, I know my father thought of you rather like another son," I said. "In a way, that almost makes you my brother -- at least, that's how I think of you." He grinned. "So I thought he would especially want you to have your gift."  
  
The look on Tom's face when he opened the package containing Matilda was something I don't think I will ever forget. He seemed at once like he wanted to cry, to laugh, and to hug me. He did none of these things, however, but thanked me with a voice full of feeling.  
  
The others received their gifts from me with only slightly less emotion in their faces. Nemo professed himself very happy with the watch, and swore to carry it always in memory of his friend. Mina seemed pleased with the little chest, and Henry declared the portable secretary to be something he would find immeasurably useful. Skinner, standing to my left, said nothing, but I felt a warm hand press my shoulder.  
  
The rest of the gift-giving was far less heart-wrenching. I failed to register what some of the presents were, but I did see that Henry gave Skinner a bottle of very old, fine Scotch, and Mina received a jewelled butterfly brooch from one of the gentlemen.  
  
I was a little puzzled by my pile of gifts, for with one exception, they were all roughly the same size. I opened the first, which was from Henry; it was a new diary, elegant black leather edged in gold, and I thanked him, noting as I did that Mina, Tom, and Nemo looked a little concerned. I quickly found out why -- each of them had bought me a new diary as well! Tom's was bound in a rough brown leather; Mina's was green, with my monogram stamped on the front in white; and Nemo's was a deep sea-blue, with pages that reminded me more of a ship's log than a lady's journal. By the time I unwrapped the fourth diary, I was laughing fit to burst. "I see I'm in no danger of running out of diary pages," I said.   
  
"Well, you're always writing," Tom said sheepishly. "We call you the historian behind your back, you know."  
  
"The historian? Really?" I was amused. "I like that. These are wonderful gifts, everyone -- I'm delighted to have them. And they will be used, you may be sure!"   
  
I picked up my fifth package, which was much smaller than the others. "Skinner, what is this? The world's smallest diary?"  
  
He chuckled. "Not quite, Bess."   
  
Not quite, indeed. The little package turned out to contain a gold locket, oval, with delicate filigree engraving. There was no chain, and when I tested the latch, it proved empty, but I was nevertheless startled to receive such a personal gift. I stared at it, then glanced up at him.  
  
"It was my mum's," he said, quietly. "Only thing of hers I got -- well, I told you about that. I can't exactly wear it around town, but I thought you might like it." He was leaning companionably against the back of my chair, looking nonchalant.  
  
"It's lovely," I said. "Well, all right, as you can't use it. Thank you, Rodney." He grinned at me, and I knew we were both thinking of when I gave him Father's shaving kit.   
  
Not long after this, Henry and Mina left for their wedding night. The crew members lined the hall leading to the exit, and as they made their "merry dash" to the waiting automobile, the men pelted them with handfuls of rice. We cheered and shouted and waved after them as they drove away, then retired to our own rooms to rest. Tomorrow is Christmas day, and we have much to celebrate.   
  


---------------

  
  
25 December 1899   
  
Merry Christmas! What a long and delightful day this has been!  
  
Breakfast was quite the usual affair, apart from the holiday greetings exchanged over the table. Mina and Henry returned to us in the late morning, looking the very picture of newly wedded bliss; Mina laughed as he scooped her up to carry her across the threshold. Our stockings were retrieved from the library, and we spent a bit of time amusing ourselves with their contents.  
  
At half past twelve we all reported, dressed in our holiday finery, to the stateroom. I put my hair up and twisted a sprig of holly around the crown; as well as the green dress Mina had helped me to select, I wore Skinner's mother's locket on a black ribbon around my throat. I think he was pleased that I did, though of course he said nothing.  
  
We began our celebrations by singing carols and drinking wassail, which was piping hot and simply delicious. Then we played a few games of Yes and No, in which one person thinks of something and the others have to ask yes-or-no questions until someone guesses what it is. The magnificent dinner was served at two, and we ate our way through the goose, the chestnut dressing, the pies, and the other savoury dishes presented.   
  
After we had given ourselves the chance to digest a bit, and felt comfortable again, Nemo wound up his Victrola and began to play music for us. It's difficult to do a Virginia reel with only four people, but we managed; Henry and Mina and Tom and I whirled about, and I could see that Tom is very good at that particular dance. Next came a waltz, for which we traded partners, and Tom and Mina actually landed under the kissing bough when the music stopped. He turned a bit red, but kissed her cheek with good humour. Nemo played a quadrille then and took me for a partner, Mina with Skinner. Then he found a lively piece to which one can only dance a polka.  
  
"Come on, Bessie, do us a turn," said Skinner. He caught me about the waist and we virtually galloped about the room; I could not stop laughing as we went. He swung me about so energetically that I was actually airborne more than once. The music stopped and we caught our breath.   
  
Nemo played another waltz, for which he claimed the bride and I danced with Henry; we were all left helpless with laughter at the sight of Skinner and Tom waltzing together, looking very pompous. "We need more girls on this ship," I heard Tom complain.   
  
The dancing went on for quite a while yet, and after a while I wanted to echo Tom's sentiment. I do enjoy dancing very much, but with so many gentlemen in need of partners, and so few ladies present, I had no opportunity to sit any of the music out. The last piece was another lively polka, for which I again partnered Skinner, and this time it was I who found myself under the bough when the music stopped.  
  
"You're caught, Elizabeth," Tom crowed. Why this amused him so much, I really don't know. I accepted Rodney's kiss on my cheek without comment, though I spent the better part of the tea that followed feeling excessively warm. I blame the dancing.  
  
After tea we had a round of storytelling. Ghost stories are always told at Christmas, so we each took turns sharing the scariest stories we know. Tom told us one which actually made me shriek, it was so frightening; I can't even recall it properly now, but it was about a "headless horseman."   
  
At last, the flaming plum pudding was served, and it was perfect! I warned the others about the charms concealed in the mix, so they would chew carefully. Curiously, no one found the button (the symbol of bachelorhood), and I wonder if it somehow failed to make its way into the pudding. Tom found the silver coin, and looked intrigued when I told him it meant he would be wealthy. We had almost finished eating when I very nearly choked; for a moment, I thought one of my teeth had broken, and I seized my napkin to remove it from my mouth. But it wasn't a tooth at all -- it was the silver ring charm.  
  
"Dear me," said Mina, dryly. "First you catch the bouquet, now you find the ring. I think you had better start looking for a bridegroom, Elizabeth, it seems you're meant to have one soon."  
  
I could feel my face colouring deeply at this. "If that's true, he's welcome to show himself whenever he's ready," I said, more blithely than I really felt. I cleaned the ring with my napkin and finished my pudding, not daring to look at anyone.  
  
We finished the day with one last carol and cup of wassail, then bade each other good night and Merry Christmas. I am quite exhausted, but on the whole, it's been a really wonderful day.  
  



	6. Dawn of an Age

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert   
  


---------------

  
  
26 December 1899   
  
Boxing Day has found us all a bit deflated after the excitement of the last few days. Everyone slept later than usual today, and I did not see much of anyone until luncheon.   
  
I did receive a very nice note today, which was left on my plate at the noon meal:  
  
_Missee Sahib Quatermain,  
  
On behalf of the crew of the _Nautilus_, I thank you for your generous provision of the holiday dessert. The men and I enjoyed the sweet and are grateful to you for thinking of us. It is our privilege to serve you.  
  
Jaya_  
  
I have occupied myself for a little while by cleaning and polishing the locket Skinner gave me, which was somewhat tarnished from years of neglect. I am frankly amazed he was able to keep hold of it all this time. Now that it's clean, I can properly appreciate how pretty it is. I am still somewhat astonished at the gift, and find myself wondering what he means by giving me something which is obviously so important to him. As he says, it was all he had of his mother's; how can he part with it?   
  
Could it possibly be that he...  
  
No. I shan't pursue this line of thinking. I am being absurd. He is my dearest friend, and perhaps I am his dearest friend too, and we may leave it there. Surely there is nothing more to contemplate.   
  


---------------

  
  
28 December 1899   
  
Three days left in the century! We have departed the shores of England once again and are making our way to South America. Over last night's dinner, we agreed to travel the length of the Amazon river and see the sights; the jungles of the Amazon are something that none of us have ever visited before, so it will be a new and exciting experience for us all. The region is presently in its rainy season, and the river will be swelling to such a great depth that we can actually take the _Nautilus_ herself down the Amazon without difficulty. Moreover, it is summer there, and the warmth will be a balm to our spirits after the gloom of London fog.  
  
We further decided to observe this truly special New Year in an unusual fashion. Instead of staying up until midnight, as most people do to ring in the new year, we will go to bed earlier than normal. The crew members will awaken us before dawn, and we will all go up to the deck to watch the sun rise on the year 1900 -- a once-in-a-lifetime event.   
  


---------------

  
  
30 December 1899   
  
Things are, much as it surprises me to say so, slightly dull around here just now. For lack of any better amusement, I spent a large portion of the day in the library. I was delighted to discover that Nemo's collection includes almost all of Shakespeare's works, and entertained myself a great deal by reading _Much Ado About Nothing_ aloud. I need hardly add that I was alone for the performance. At least, I think I was; one can never be completely certain of that with Skinner around.   
  
_Much Ado_ is possibly my favourite of the plays, if only because Benedick and Beatrice get such marvellous lines. The best one belongs to Benedick: "I do love nothing in the world so well as you." I always sigh when I read it.   
  


---------------

  
  
31 December 1899   
  
We make our way south, and I'm still suffering from mild _ennui_. Tom and I played chess for a little while today, but on the whole, the most remarkable thing about the day is that it is the last time I will date a diary entry in 1899. As of tomorrow, I must start writing "1900." How strange that will be!  
  
Things seem quite usual between Skinner and myself, so I believe I must have been mistaken in my thoughts about his Christmas gift. The delusions of a hopeless romantic, I suppose. Indeed, it's probably for the best that I was wrong.  
  
So then why do I feel vaguely disappointed?   
  


---------------

  
  
1 January 1900   
  
Behold, the dawning of a new age!  
  
I'm not precisely certain at what time the knock came to wake me, but I heard Mina call my name before she opened the door. "Elizabeth, it's time," she said, seeing that I was awake.  
  
I dressed as swiftly as I could, leaving my hair braided, and wrapped myself in a blue cloak. Climbing the ladder, I joined the League; the crew members were assembled in rank formation along the length of the fully-raised submarine, all eyes on the horizon.  
  
Nemo gave us each a glass of wine, the last of the Athens vintage, and we waited. The sky grew progressively lighter, changing from inky black to midnight blue to a deep purple. I looked around at my friends. We all stood at the rail, as close to the actual sunrise as we possibly could. Henry was at the farthest end from myself, his arm around Mina's waist; then Nemo, looking expectant. Tom stood to my left, his boyish face reflecting the pre-dawn light, and to my right was Skinner, leaning against the railing so that though his face was pointed toward the horizon, his body was turned toward the rest of us.  
  
A faint line of red appeared on the ocean. Slowly, very slowly, this expanded into a brighter, larger band of red-orange. A brilliant flaming sunrise cast its rays upon us all.  
  
Nemo took a step back from the rail and raised his glass. "To the twentieth century," he said in his deep, serious voice, and we all lifted our glasses to his and repeated the words. The wine was strong and sweet.  
  
We all stood there for a long time, watching the morning grow brighter and brighter. Gradually the crew returned to their tasks, and one by one, my friends withdrew and went below to prepare for the day. After the sun was fully risen, only Skinner, Tom and I remained on the deck.  
  
"So," said Tom, still watching the sun's ascent, "any New Year's resolutions, folks?"  
  
Inspiration struck me, and I couldn't suppress a chuckle. "I resolve," I said teasingly, "to be more _extraordinary_ in the coming year, so I fit in better with this company."  
  
"Funny," said Skinner, lightly, "I'm resolving to be a little more ordinary, if I can manage it." He was thinking of the cure, I don't doubt. Tom and I turned to look at him.  
  
"Skinner," said Tom, "you couldn't be ordinary if you tried."  
  
"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Tom." We laughed together, the three of us, and went to join the others for breakfast.  
  
It's quite usual for people to have yet another lavish party on New Year's Day, but after all the celebrations of the past few weeks, I believe we are all a bit worn out. Perhaps next year we will have one, hoping as I do that we will all still be together this time next year.   
  


---------------

  
  
4 January 1900   
  
It is a bit difficult to remember to write 1900 on my diary pages now. Never before have I (nor anyone else now living) known a year which did not begin with the number 18, and it's a hard habit to break.  
  
Today we held council as to exactly what our plans are once we reach South America, which should be in a matter of days. Nemo is feeling quite ambitious, as it turns out, for he has a great expedition in mind: He wishes to go in search of the lost cities of the Incas.  
  
The Incas were a native civilization in South America, rather savage from what I have learned of them -- they required blood sacrifices to their gods. They were conquered by Spanish invaders in the sixteenth century. According to legend, what remained of their people pulled back into a region called the Vilcabamba Valley. Two cities of theirs are known to have existed -- Machu Picchu and Choquequirau -- but no outside explorers have ever located them.  
  
Nemo, as is his wont, has been studying maps and manuscripts related to the area, and he believes he has pinpointed the approximate location of the sister cities. We will follow the Amazon through Brazil and into Peru, to almost its very end. "We will enter the site from the south," he said. "I have found no record of anyone else ever attempting this. From the Apurimac River, we will climb up a steep mountain, the Cordillera Vilcabamba. It is densely forested and difficult to traverse, but I think we can do it. We will be the ones who rediscover the lost cities of the Incas."  
  
I think Father would have _loved_ this plan.   
  


---------------

  
  
6 January 1900   
  
Today was the Epiphany, also called the twelfth day of Christmas, which meant that we were busy most of the day with the removal of the holiday decorations. The large majority of these were, of course, comprised of foliage and could be tossed harmlessly into the ocean. The Christmas tree trimmings and stockings were packed away for next year, as was my wooden Nativity.  
  
I've been doing a bit of reading in the past few days, to try and learn something about where we're headed and who the Incas really were. Much of the truth about this race remains unknown, because they had no method of keeping a written history; they relied primarily on oral tradition and on a detailed system of knotted strings, called quipu. No one knows how to interpret the knots of the quipu, however. Even less is known about Machu Picchu and Choquequirau. From what I have read, scholars surmise that the cities were not commonly used even by the Incas, which is probably why the Spanish conquerors completely overlooked them. They were, it is thought, strictly reserved for the use of the Incan royalty and nobility.  
  
Information about the Amazon river is more readily available. The Amazon and the Nile are the two longest rivers in the world, that is certain, but great debate rages over which is the longer. For a while, the Amazon was known as the Rio Grande, the 'great river,' but it was ultimately named the Amazon in about 1541. That was when an explorer from Spain, Captain Francisco de Orellana, faced the Incas in a bloody battle; the women fought as hard as the men, and it prompted him to remember the Amazon women warriors of mythology. He named the river, therefore, in their honour.  
  
We can expect incredibly humid and wet weather throughout our river journey. If it grows too unbearable while we are still on the _Nautilus_, that will not be difficult -- we may simply remain below, where Nemo manages by some ingenuity to control the climate at all times. Once we leave the ship for the actual exploration, however, it will become more troublesome. The heat in Egypt was oppressive enough, but in Brazil and Peru we will have to face the humidity as well. I am sorting through my garments to find the lightest, thinnest cottons and linens; modesty will permit me to abandon neither corset nor petticoat, so I must be as careful as I can to avoid becoming ill.   
  


---------------

  
  
9 January 1900   
  
Today we entered the Amazon! The rains have already swelled the river sufficiently that the _Nautilus_ was able to submerge almost completely. We went up to the deck, which remained above the water level, and watched as we slowly sailed into the jungles. Henry, sensibly, retained some of the insect repellent he had acquired in Egypt, and we must use this liberally whenever we are outdoors; the danger of malaria is as present here as it was on the Nile.  
  
The trees are thick and lush. Already I have spotted a number of curious birds, including great scarlet parrots and blue-and-gold macaws. I believe I even caught a fleeting glimpse of a jaguar darting through the underbrush. It is, of course, incredibly and stiflingly hot, but we will get used to it presently, I hope. Amazonia is, on the whole, quite excessively gorgeous.  
  
My hair has been utterly uncooperative in this humidity, so rather than attempting to tame it into a braid or pin it up, I have simply left it down. Mina does the same thing, and her hair is longer than mine, but mine is more unruly owing to the curl.   
  


---------------

  
  
11 January 1900   
  
The Amazon is truly a most amazing place. I find myself wishing my father were here to see it.  
  
From what Nemo told us over breakfast, it should take us the rest of January to navigate the Amazon down to its source, the Apurimac River. The mountain where he believes the lost cities of the Incas are hidden is not far from there; we will visit the ancient city of Cuzco before attempting to climb the mountain, for which we will need mules. All told, we should probably not expect to be back aboard the _Nautilus_ before the end of February.  
  
Part of the reason the Amazon trek will take so long is because we are proceeding very slowly, so as not to upset the locals or the wildlife. Of the former we have seen little sign; houses are erected here and there along the river, high on stilts to protect their residents from flooding, but very few actual persons have been spotted. Perhaps the frequent rains are part of the problem, for indeed they've kept us inside a fair bit.  
  
The latter is an entirely different story, as the rain does not completely interfere with our ability to observe the animals. Down in the very lowest portion of the submarine, above the engine rooms but below everything else, the _Nautilus_ is fitted with great glass windows which allow us to look out into the waters of the Amazon and view the different creatures which live there. We have spotted electric eels, freshwater sharks, and many of those horrible flesh-eating fish called piranha. One animal we have not seen yet, but that I hope to before the journey is over, is the Boto -- the shy pink dolphin native to the river.   
  


---------------

  
  
13 January 1900   
  
Today we reached the mouth of the Jari River, one of the many tributaries along the Amazon. Some of Nemo's men went ashore, for we spotted a great supply of Brazil nuts growing from trees near the water, and they harvested a bundle. There are many edible plants in the jungle such as this, though for the most part we will leave the native foliage alone; the people here need such foodstuffs on which to survive, and we have plenty of supplies for our own use.   
  
During one of the intervals between showers, when we were able to enjoy some time on the deck, we saw a pair of great otters gambolling in the water behind the submarine. They dove and surfaced, paddling on their backs and chasing each other around in the churning foam. It was altogether delightful to watch.   
  



	7. The Dolphin and the Cat

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert   
  


---------------

  
  
16 January 1900   
  
Today we actually went ashore for a while, in a town called Barra. It was a bustling little city which did little to impress me, if I may be honest; the dingy buildings reminded me somehow of some of London's less pleasant neighbourhoods.   
  
One thing which was of interest to me, as a student of botany, was a visit to the local apothecary. There are many, many useful plants growing in the jungles of South America, and I was able to purchase two specimens to add to my herbarium. One is called _ipecachuana_, from the root of which can be fashioned a medicine to induce vomiting if someone has swallowed poison; the other is _flor da terra_, which is used to cure dysentery. Henry was most approving of my selections, and I have promised a supply of both medicines for the infirmary supplies. The man who sold me the plants told me how to correctly manufacture the remedies, and Mina and I will undertake the endeavour together as part of her lessons in herb lore.   
  


---------------

  
  
17 January 1900   
  
This afternoon I spent some time alone on the deck, watching the antics of a large family of monkeys. They were swinging in the trees along the shore, chattering madly to each other as they jumped from one branch to the next. They were really quite adorable and I almost wanted to have one for a pet. I knew someone in London who did have a pet monkey, however, and I wouldn't truly want to keep one.   
  
Thanks to a guidebook I found in the library, I've been able to identify a number of the plants along the river as well as many more of the animals. I've spotted Brazilian tapirs, giant anteaters, anacondas, and a three-toed sloth. In the plant family I've seen passion fruit, plantain trees (plantains are cousins of bananas), and all manner of wild and exotic flowers, so beautiful I long to go and gather them.   
  


---------------

  
  
19 January 1900   
  
We passed the mouth of the Içá River today, yet another of the Amazon's tributaries. It should be no more than a week, Nemo says, until we reach the Apurimac.  
  
Skinner is quite amusing. The humidity makes it rather unbearable for him to wear his greasepaint, which I can readily understand. So instead, we are treated to the sight of a shirt and pants walking around, seemingly under their own power; now and then a pair of dark pince-nez glasses is added to the mobile ensemble. I've tried very hard not to laugh, for he's too dear to me to wish to possibly offend him, but it's been difficult.  
  
According to something I read during one of the downpours that sent us indoors, many of the explorers who came to this part of the world were obsessed with finding the lost city of El Dorado, a fantastic place filled with gold and treasure. I know Nemo well enough to know that's not his intention -- the man pursues history and science, not wealth -- but all the same, I wonder if it ever did exist.   
  


---------------

  
  
21 January 1900   
  
Skinner really is my dearest friend.  
  
I was dozing, to be truthful, in the library this afternoon. I was curled up in one of the chairs, my feet under me, with the Shakespeare book in my lap. It was raining again, of course. Then I felt someone take the book from me, but I didn't open my eyes.   
  
"Bess. Bessie, wake up."  
  
"Mm. No."  
  
He chuckled. "Come on, love, wake up. Got something to show you."  
  
I opened one eye and looked at the place where I estimated his eyes to be. "What?"  
  
"Just come on. Trust me."  
  
Well, as it happens, I do trust him, so I got up and followed him out of the library.   
  
"Hurry, Bess, I don't know how long they'll wait."  
  
I didn't have a clue what he meant until we reached the underwater observatory. He led me over to one of the big windows on the starboard side of the ship, and I gasped in astonishment.  
  
There were no less than six Boto -- the pink dolphins I'd so hoped to see -- cavorting in the water just outside the submarine. They were swimming alongside us, as though racing the _Nautilus_ down the river. I moved to press my hands against the glass, and the nearest dolphin actually looked at me as it swam. I felt connected to it, somehow. It was amazing, as though the dolphin and I understood one another.  
  
"Knew you wanted to see them," said Skinner's voice behind me.  
  
"They're so beautiful!" I couldn't tear my eyes away. Even in the depths of the dark water, I could see the flashes of pink in their skin. The sleek bodies knifed through the river as cleanly as the Nautilus herself. "My word, I think they're the loveliest things I've ever seen."  
  
"Rather a fetching view," he agreed, coming to stand beside me. We watched in silence for several minutes, but at last, the dolphins grew weary of the game and allowed themselves to be outstripped by the sub.   
  
"So...mad at me for interrupting your kip?" he asked slyly.  
  
"No," I replied, smiling at him. "Thank you. I did want to see them, very much." Not really sure what else to say, or to do, I caught his invisible hand and squeezed it gratefully.  
  
It was an odd moment. I think the best way I can describe it is to say that the air around us changed; it seemed heavy, somehow, as if there were something hanging between us. We looked at each other, not saying anything. Then we heard footsteps in the hall outside, and I realized I was still holding his hand, so I released it.  
  
Jaya appeared in the doorway. "Missee Sahib Quatermain, Mr. Skinner -- I am sent to tell you that the others are taking their tea in the stateroom and would like you to join them."  
  
"Thank you, Jaya, we'll be right along," I said. He inclined his head and withdrew. I looked at Skinner again.  
  
"Thank you," I repeated.  
  
"You're welcome," he said affably. He waved me toward the door. "Shall we, then?"  
  
"Of course."   
  


---------------

  
  
22 January 1900   
  
We are very near the end of the river journey. When we reach the Apurimac, we will put ashore and camp for a night on the beach, just for the experience of camping on the Amazon. Then we will journey to Cuzco, which is not far (I am told), where we will rent mules to make our attempt up the mountain where Nemo believes the cities to be.   
  


---------------

  
  
23 January 1900   
  
The Apurimac, at last! The beach on which we have set up camp is pristine white, and very pretty. A handful of Nemo's men will accompany us on our trek, to guard our safety and see to our well-being.   
  
Our camping arrangements are to be similar to those we used in Egypt; but as Mina and Henry are now married, they will share the tent she had previously shared with me, and another, much smaller tent has been brought for me to use. This time, thank goodness, we need not fear incursion by crocodiles. We must again sleep under mosquito netting, but I prefer that to insect invasion. The river is not as hugely swollen here, and the water seems somehow cleaner. The heat is terrible, so I think perhaps I will walk down the shoreline a bit, then take off my shoes and wade into the shallowest water to cool down.   
  
_later_   
  
Well, that was not one of my brightest ideas.  
  
It started out well enough at first. I simply mentioned to the others that I was walking down the river a little way, not too far from the camp of course, and off I went.   
  
When I felt I was decently obscured from the gentlemen, I removed my shoes and pulled my skirts up a bit in order to wade in the river. I only went in to ankle-depth, then crouched down in a sitting position to splash some of the cool water onto my face and throat. It was deeply satisfying. There were many rocks about -- the Apurimac has quite a number of rapids and could be quite dangerous if navigated by boat -- and I thought the sound of the water running over these was quite pleasant.  
  
Then I heard something else.  
  
Very slowly, and still crouched, I turned around. At first I could see nothing; then I observed a bit of movement in the trees. Squinting, I realized I was looking at a puma, one of the jaguar's cousins which lives in the region. I'd read about the two big cats, and everything I'd read made it sound like the jaguar was more to be feared. The puma was big, certainly, with tawny-red fur, but I thought it would conclude our little staring contest and move back into the jungle.  
  
I was quite wrong. Stealthily it emerged, never taking its eyes off of me. When it was no more than six feet away, it stopped. I eased myself up to my unimpressive full height, thinking perhaps it would leave me alone if it believed I was bigger and more dangerous. It was apparently not fooled, for it promptly growled and hunkered down to spring. I took a step backward, and just that quick, the puma pounced. I heard myself scream.  
  
A crack rent the air, which at the moment I failed to understand, and then the full weight of the beast was upon me. I was knocked backwards into the water, narrowly missing the rocks, and the puma's body was just heavy enough that I could not free myself. I struggled against the burden, but I was well and truly pinned to the shallow river floor. I thought for certain I was going to drown.  
  
Mercifully, I felt something pulling the puma away from my body almost at once, and a pair of arms gathered about me and pulled me from the water. I sputtered wildly, trying to breathe and, in my bewildered state, fought against the arms which supported me. My brain seemed muddied, as though I'd hit my head, and I could not even see properly.  
  
"Easy, Bess, easy! We've got you!"  
  
Somehow the voice penetrated my terror, and I stopped struggling. I continued to spit up water, however, and gradually my vision cleared. I could see Tom, Winchester at the ready, standing a few feet away from me with Mina, Henry, and Nemo. Rodney was holding me upright; two of Nemo's men were wrestling with the body of the puma. It was dead.  
  
As it has been explained to me, one of Nemo's men had been ordered to keep an eye on me from a distance. When the puma had pounced, the crack I'd heard was a shot from his rifle. It missed, however, and it took a second shot (which I'd failed to register under the water) to kill the animal. Given how much trouble I've managed to find when left to my own devices, I suppose I really can't blame Nemo for having me watched. When I screamed, the others had come running.  
  
"Just in time to see you and the cat wrestling in the water," Henry said grimly. "It was rather horrible, if you don't mind my saying so."  
  
"You're very lucky, Elizabeth," Nemo added. It was as close to scolding me as he has ever come. "The piranha do not live in this part of the river."  
  
Piranha -- the flesh-eaters. That thought made me tremble.  
  
"Let's get you back to camp," said Mina. "You've got to get into dry clothes and rest a bit."  
  
I tried to take a step on my own and almost collapsed from the sudden pain. Looking down, I pulled aside my skirt to reveal my torn stocking and bleeding leg. I suppose I'd been cut by one of the puma's claws.  
  
"Right," I heard Skinner mutter. "Hang on then, Bess." He held me about the waist with one arm, and deftly hooked the other under my knees in order to carry me back to the camp. I felt silly, really, because camp was such a short distance away, but all the same I was relieved for the assistance. I put my arms around his invisible neck and just shook the whole way back to the camp site.  
  
Mina was waiting by my tent. I did register the odd quirk of her eyebrow when she looked at us -- and I imagine I looked ridiculous, shivering and clinging to him as I was -- but she did not comment on it. Instead, she said, "I laid out dry clothing on your cot, Elizabeth, and there are some towels. Henry says you should lie still for a time until you calm down."   
  
"She's bleeding," Skinner told her. He carried me in and set me on the cot beside the garments. Mina left and returned with Henry's kit, and after Skinner left us, she took care of my leg and answered my questions about what had happened. Then she again told me to rest.  
  
That was perhaps an hour ago, and I've not yet emerged. I feel like the mother of fools. How could I have been so stupid as to go off alone in the middle of the jungle? I think I owe everyone a rather large apology, to say nothing of a thank-you.   
  
_later still_   
  
It's growing late, and I must rest before tomorrow's trip to Cuzco, but I have to record what has been said.  
  
As is so often the case, my thanks and apologies were accepted with good humour by all involved. I do not know whether they indulge me so much because they are fond of me, or because they were so fond of my father, or what the reason is that they forgive so easily. Tom's comment on the matter was amusing, if not illuminating: "We don't get much chance to be bored with you around, Elizabeth."  
  
The "prize" of the puma which attacked me was still a matter to be determined when I emerged from the tent. At length it was decided to have the beast skinned and turned into a rug for the ship library.  
  
I did get to have a word with Skinner before we retired for the evening, in order to thank him a bit more properly for pulling me out of the river and carrying me back to camp. He shrugged it off, saying, "Wasn't going to let you drown, was I?"  
  
"How did you get there so fast, anyway?" I asked him. "I don't think I was under the water all that long."  
  
At that, he chuckled. "You should know by now that I don't let you too far out of my sight, Bess. It's not easy being your invisible shield when you go wandering off on your own."  
  
This was something I'd wanted to ask him about for a long time, and since he'd brought it up, I figured I might as well go ahead. "Why _do_ you do that?"  
  
"What? The shield thing?" Again he shrugged. "Somebody's got to look after you. You're like a magnet for trouble." He stretched then, and yawned; the others had already gone to their respective tents. "Best get some sleep, love. You've had a busy day and we've got to be up a bit early tomorrow."  
  
"All right." I stood up. Feeling as though I owed him some gesture of appreciation -- how many people can say they have an invisible shield protecting them all the time? -- I summoned what daring I possess, bent, and kissed the top of his unseen head. "Good night."  
  
He paused, as though I'd completely dumbfounded him. "Good night, Bessie," he said finally.   
  



	8. Jungle Fever

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert  
  


----------

  
  
24 January 1900   
  
Today we made our way to Cuzco, the ancient seat of the Incan empire, and still a important city in Peru. We rented a small team of mules, one for each of us to ride and two more to carry supplies. The road leading into the mountain is much overgrown with vegetation; therefore, Nemo's men will by turns walk ahead of our party, cutting back what they must in order for us to pass. I've acquired a new book on the Incas (written in English, mercifully), which provides a bit more information on this curious people, thanks to local oral tradition.  
  
My leg is painful, but the cut is not terribly deep. I am grateful to be riding instead of walking, however. We have concluded luncheon and will be making our departure very shortly.  
  
How curious...Jaya just reported to Nemo of a conversation he had with the owner of the mules. I use the term conversation loosely, for Jaya's grasp of the local language, while certainly better than mine or anyone in the League's, is not very strong. He managed to make himself understood well enough that the mule owner knows we are seeking Machu Picchu, and this seems to have frightened the gentleman. The city is there, apparently, but something lives within it which keeps the local people away. He made some noises about "the stone," which made no sense to any of us. Nemo feels that it is merely a superstition, some legend which has survived through the years. The book I purchased here in Cuzco offers no explanation, so I am inclined to agree with him.   
  


----------

  
  
26 January 1900   
  
So horribly humid! And the higher we go in the mountains, the thinner the air becomes. We are progressing very slowly to allow our bodies to adjust. The trees are lush and the roads really are thoroughly overgrown.  
  
In addition to the thinning air, we must also stop frequently to take shelter from the rain. I don't believe I've been properly dry since Christmas. Usually when there is a sign of impending rain, we halt and the largest tent is set up as a canopy. We must amuse ourselves as best we can until the storms pass; often we tell stories or trade anecdotes from our lives before the League. Sometimes the gentlemen play cards, and for lack of other entertainment, Mina and I have even joined the games -- Aunt Adelaide would not have approved, I know.   
  


----------

  
  
29 January 1900   
  
More of the same. Lots of trees, lots of rain. I am enjoying myself -- how can I not, in such good company? -- but I begin to feel that if we ever do find Machu Picchu, it cannot be soon enough.   
  


----------

  
  
1 February 1900   
  
It seems almost impossible to believe that we are already a full month into this new century, but it is nevertheless true.  
  
The scenery, when we are actually in motion, is magnificent. We are now away from the Apurimac, and instead we can see below us the Urubamba. In the mornings it is particularly marvellous, with a fine mist rising off of the water. The jungle is noisy, always noisy -- but to my surprise, it has not been quite as hot as I was led to expect. The humidity makes it worse, of course, but it's actually mostly tolerable. At night it actually gets quite cool and we have need of a blanket.   
  
I have been reading my book about the Incas, and I must say I find them fascinating, if somewhat distasteful. In some ways they were remarkable people, brilliant engineers not unlike the Egyptians. Their empire was vast, until their annihilation by the Spanish; part of this was apparently due to smallpox, which was brought to this continent by the explorers and against which the natives had no resistance. But the Incas themselves were also quite savage, performing ritual sacrifices of beast and man alike. Even children were frequently offered to the gods of the sun and mountain. Their human sacrifices were not often bloody, like those of other ancient civilizations, but they were still sacrifices.  
  


----------

  
  
11 February 1900   
  
We have, regrettably, not moved from this spot for several days. It has been rather a harrowing week, for many of our company are ill. I do not know if the water was bad, or if it was something in the food, but dysentery has joined our ranks. Quite an unpleasant illness, to put it mildly! It luckily did not strike everyone (which leads me even more to wonder what caused it, for have we not all been eating and drinking from the same rations?), but about half of Nemo's officers were taken ill, as were Tom and, most unfortunately, Henry. At a time when our doctor is most needed, the doctor himself is unwell!  
  
The rest of us have done our best to care for the sick men. Compounding the problem is the lack of medicine to treat it; we simply did not bring enough to handle a mass outbreak of dysentery, and the _flor da terra_ plant I acquired in Barra is not mature enough to harvest for the cure, even if I had it here. Mina has been distributing what medicine there is in very small portions, trying to make it go around, and the combination of rest and treatment seems to finally be making an improvement among the patients. Tom, being the youngest and arguably the healthiest of the stricken, has made the swiftest recovery.  
  
I feel most sympathetic toward the men, and wish I could do more to ease their discomfort. It is a...messy condition. I have done what I can for them, which has mostly consisted of taking over the duties of preparing meals for the group -- the officers who normally handle that task are among the most severely ill. Mina does the actual dosing of medication, and we both attend them when they have need. Nemo and the healthy officers have been primarily boosting the morale of the sick, and Skinner has mainly been keeping Tom and Henry company. He also assists me with my other chief responsibility, which is making sure we have plenty of fresh, clean water on hand at all times, as the men are in constant danger of dehydration thanks to the disease.  
  
It is late now, and most of my companions are getting some much-needed sleep. Jaya and another officer are sitting the current watch, in the sense of guarding the camp. I am sitting watch over the patients; Mina and I trade this duty throughout the night, so that someone is always awake should one of the ill men need something or take a turn for the worse. I need hardly add that the first few days were the worst, and neither of us slept much. I'm not entirely certain she sleeps even now, in truth, for she is curled in a chair at Henry's bedside, and I heard them conversing in low voices some time ago.   
  
I will go among the men and make sure everyone is well covered, as it is quite a chilly night. I think Skinner is outside sitting the watch with the soldiers; I should go and see if they have need of anything. I am to wake Mina for her turn in two hours.   
  


----------

  
  
12 February 1900   
  
Only a short note, for then I must get on with my tasks for today. Tom is almost fully recovered, and several of the other patients are coming along well. Another few days and most of them should be well enough to resume our journey, though we have agreed to remain here until everyone is back to full health.  
  
After I roused Mina at the specified hour, I went back to the chair where I had been sitting with this diary, curled up, and promptly dozed off. My turn came again three hours later, when I was awakened by her asking, "Are you quite warm, Elizabeth?"  
  
I didn't understand what she meant -- although I _was_ comfortably snug, actually -- until I woke properly. She was standing over me, looking rather amused. At some point during my sleep, someone had seen fit to cover me...but not with a blanket.  
  
That leather coat really _is_ nice and warm.   
  


----------

  
  
19 February 1900   
  
I've not touched this diary for several days because, as luck would have it, I myself became ill. Henry (who is well again) says that the disease is passed not only through food and drink, but also from one person to another. Although I was spared in the initial days of the onslaught, it would seem I contracted it from one of the men while caring for them. I have been sick enough to realize just how miserable they have been. Indeed, for a few days of my illness, I was actually a bit delirious with fever, which is a less common symptom of the disease, and slept a lot.   
  
The fever broke sometime in the night a few days ago. I awoke very suddenly, shivering despite my two blankets, and looked around wildly. I was not fully aware, then, that I had been so ill, and had no real idea what had been happening or even where I was.  
  
"Hello, princess," said a voice. "Come back to us, have you?"  
  
Skinner was seated near me, wearing the greasepaint on his face for the first time in several days. I was grateful for this, because it gave me something on which to focus my gaze. "What...why am I here?" I asked him. I felt very disoriented, and my head ached.  
  
"Gave us all a bit of a scare, you did," he said. His expression was calm -- we might have been discussing the weather -- but I could hear something in his voice. Relief, I think. "I'd best get Henry, he'll want to give you a going-over now you're awake. Sit tight."  
  
Henry's relief was just as palpable as Skinner's; apparently, my temperature climbed very high during the worst of the illness. I was quite puzzled to see him, in truth, for when I'd succumbed to the disease he was still in his own sickbed. He answered my questions patiently and told me to lie down again. Mina brought me some water, and I drank it greedily; I don't recall ever feeling so thirsty.  
  
Tom and Nemo and even some of the men came by in the course of the next hour or so to see how I was faring. I asked about the other patients and was told that most of them were fully recovered. For someone who had done little but sleep for three days, I felt curiously exhausted, so no one stayed to talk for very long. Henry admonished me to rest. "If you need anything, we won't be far," he told me, in the soothing voice he reserves for his patients. "I don't think Skinner's been out of this tent all week."   
  
Indeed, anytime I've been awake since then, he's been within sight, keeping me company as he did for Henry and Tom. His irrepressible good humour has been most welcome, and his concern for me is obvious. He's made my recovery tolerable, and I'm very grateful. He...how can I put this? He's grown even dearer to me than before. I hesitate to say more than that on the subject.  
  
It would seem that my fever was high enough that there was talk of abandoning the trek and returning to the _Nautilus_, but now that I am almost completely well again, it has been agreed that we will continue. Another day or so and I should be fit to travel, and Machu Picchu may yet be an attainable goal.  
  



	9. Sun and Stone

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert  
  


----------

  
  
21 February 1900   
  
We expect to resume our journey tomorrow, for I have been deemed well enough to travel. My appetite has returned and, indeed, I feel much stronger.   
  
At present we are approximately halfway up the mountain, something I neglected to mention in my entries regarding the dysentery epidemic. If Machu Picchu does lie at the summit, we can anticipate reaching it in about a week, assuming the rain does not hinder our progress too much.   
  


----------

  
  
23 February 1900   
  
Mule-back is not really a bad way to travel. I've grown somewhat fond of my mount, for all she is a stubborn beast. The path cut for us by Nemo's men is too narrow to allow anything but single-file passage, so conversation while riding is rather impossible. Each of us must amuse ourselves as we journey -- admiring the jungle beauty and contemplating what might await us when we reach our destination.   
  


----------

  
  
28 February 1900   
  
We are there. I can hardly believe it, but we have done it! If this is, as Nemo believes, Machu Picchu, then we have at last uncovered the lost Incan city!  
  
The ruins are exquisite. Some walls, almost completely intact, are still standing; they are constructed of stone with no apparent mortar between them, yet are fitted together so perfectly that I could not wedge even a sheet of paper into the crevices! The entire city is built on a series of levels, giving it the appearance of a series of steps climbing ever higher on the mountain.  
  
We camp tonight, and tomorrow we explore more thoroughly.   
  


----------

  
  
1 March 1900   
  
So that was what the mule owner meant about "the stone." What a day this has been -- even by the standards of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, it was a dangerous adventure.  
  
We concluded breakfast and began, as expected, to search the site more thoroughly. We were looking for nothing specific, just examining all the remains carefully. The sun climbed overhead, we ate luncheon, and we continued to explore. I had my book about the Incas with me, though it offered little assistance with regard to the ruins -- after all, no one has been to Machu Picchu (if that is indeed where we are) in centuries.  
  
The site holds many marvels. Natural springs have been manipulated to provide water to different parts of the city. The "steps" engineered into the mountainside are enormous levels, perhaps once used for farming. Along one of these we observed a curious row of stone statues, like rather hideous men. Much like all the other ruins, the statues were made from stone of a whitish-grey colour; there were seven of these, identical, and all in sitting positions.  
  
Not far from the statues was another stone, very curious in appearance. It looked like an ordinary boulder, but a carefully carved square rock jutted up from the centre. We examined it closely, and I placed my hand on the central block as I tried to lean over for a better view.  
  
Here, then, is where things began to unravel for us. The square stone shifted in its base, sinking down perhaps an inch or two, and at once a terrible sound could be heard echoing through the city. Very slowly, we all turned, and you may well imagine our horror when the statues began to rise from their ancient seats.  
  
As one they stood, faced our party, and began to advance. We had nowhere to run, and precious few places to hide. The statues were huge, the stone appeared powerful, and their intentions were clearly unfriendly. I had one confused impression of grey monstrosities approaching when I was seized by Nemo and pushed behind a mostly-intact wall. "Stay here!" he ordered.  
  
From this hiding place, I watched in horror. The Indian soldiers, who had rushed to defend Nemo and the others, were being knocked aside like dust being brushed from a mantel. Mina was at a great disadvantage, for her only real battle skill was useless -- the stone men had neither flesh nor blood. She stood off to one side a little, and curiously, the statues ignored her. I saw Henry pull the vial from his inner pocket and prepare to transform; Tom was attempting to shoot one of the moving statues with his revolvers, but he barely took a few chips out of its shoulder.  
  
The stone men continued to advance, knocking aside anyone in their path. Strangely, they didn't seem as though they were really trying to hurt anyone; rather, it was like they were simply knocking down barriers which happened to be alive. Once Hyde emerged, he was fully as tall as they -- yet even his formidable strength appeared to be no match for them. The others continued to move backward, trying desperately to avoid the swinging stone fists, as the statues drew nearer to where I was concealed.  
  
Skinner, visible only because of his clothing (which he'd had no time to remove), backed up to where I was peering out from behind the wall. "Bess, run," he said quietly. He pointed. "That way. Go hide in one of those caves we saw earlier."  
  
"But -- "  
  
"Go!"  
  
There was another, lower wall near the one which hid me, and I ducked low to dodge behind it. I heard a smashing sound; one of the statues had put its fist into another stone. I ran, crouched, to the end of the wall and peered around it. My friends were backed against the wall which had shielded me, and the statues were little more than an arm's length away.  
  
_I must do something_, I thought wildly. Glancing about, I spotted a rock; a piece which had broken from the low wall, by the look of it. Not really thinking about what might happen as a result, I picked up the rock and hurled it with all my strength at the nearest statue. It struck home, glancing between its shoulder blades, and the seven stone monsters turned in my direction.  
  
"Come on!" I yelled at them.  
  
This was probably not the smartest thing I could have done, for four of them did exactly that -- they completely revolved on the spot and began moving toward me. The other three remained where they were, spreading out to form an impenetrable barrier which prevented my friends from coming to my aid. I turned and began to run, albeit somewhat clumsily in my skirts, across the high plateau.  
  
The statues gave chase, their speed increasing only slightly; they were heavy, cumbersome creatures, and this kept them from running too fast. I jumped down to the next level and sprinted toward the trees, remembering the caves we had observed earlier. If I could lure these four far enough away from their fellows, the League might have a chance to overpower the other three and make it to safety. This was the only thought I could coherently form as I stumbled over the long grasses of the mountain, periodically glancing back to see if they still followed.  
  
Down another level...I could see the entrance to one of the caves now. I wasn't sure how deep it went, or what was inside, but I thought there was a possibility I could lose them once I was in the darkness. I reached the cave mouth, cast one last fleeting look at the lumbering statues, and darted inside.  
  
I could see nothing. The light penetrated little beyond the entrance to the cavern, and I went forward blindly. Hands out, I moved very slowly, suddenly frightened that I might find myself at the edge of a precipice. But instead, I found the back wall, sooner than expected. The cave was so small it scarcely deserved the name; it might have been nothing more than the den of a large animal, and I shuddered to think of its occupant returning to discover me there.  
  
The statues had reached the cave entrance, but they did not come in after me. Instead, three of them turned on the fourth and, to my utter amazement, began smashing it into fragments. It put up no struggle; it was as if this was planned. Soon the cave mouth was littered with broken pieces of the statue. Two of the remaining three began to then do the same to their fellow, and the rubble began to accumulate. Another statue, which I presumed was one of the three left guarding my friends, soon joined the group and was likewise broken. I watched, fascinated, wondering if they would all destroy each other and leave me free to exit unharmed. Yet another statue arrived, meaning that only one remained standing over the League.  
  
The statues who remained standing began to collect the broken pieces which lay on the ground and, systematically, piled them at the cave mouth. It was as high as my knees before they started placing new stones. Only then did the horrible truth force its way into my mind: they were sealing the cave. I was being buried alive.  
  
I ran forward to the light, thinking I might climb out and slip past them unnoticed, but the nearest one caught me and tossed me roughly back into the cave. I hit the floor and rolled over; the wall of stone pieces was now as high as my own waist. The cave was not large, and if they completely sealed it with me inside, I knew I would run out of air before very long.   
  
Other rocks, not formed by the breaking of the statues, were added to the growing pile. Two of the statues seemed to be in charge of finding these larger stones and pushing, rolling, or carrying them to the cave mouth. The pile grew swiftly, and though I tried to push against it to knock it down, it was already too heavy, being several layers thick. I heard breaking sounds, the barrier having grown so high I could no longer see past it, and knew that the other statues were being shattered to complete the pile. The last square of daylight was blocked out; I was alone in the darkness.   
  
I had correctly guessed that the two statues who joined the group were two of those left standing guard over my friends. Needless to say, this perplexed them utterly, and they kept trying to get away from the one which remained. Mina dissolved into bat form and flew over its head, but she was the only one who was able to escape. She followed the others to where the cave was being sealed, but by the time she reached the site, I was already eclipsed from view by the stones.   
  
The last of the statues guarding the men appeared and was broken into fragments like the rest; only one statue remained to put these pieces in place. Once the last stone was fitted into a slot, the final statue turned away from the cave mouth and raised its arms, as though toward the sun. It opened its mouth, and a strange guttural sound emerged, a stone voice speaking in an unfamiliar tongue. Mina resumed her usual form as the others came into view. They stopped short, watching the peculiar chanting, which lasted for several minutes.  
  
When it had concluded the prayer, or speech, or whatever it was, the statue closed its mouth and lowered its arms again. It sank into a sitting position on the grass before the stone pile and, quite unexpectedly, crumbled into dust. Nothing remained but a fine powder.  
  
"Where are the others?" asked Hyde.  
  
"They're in this pile," Mina said. "It was most unusual -- they broke each other into pieces."  
  
"They -- they destroyed themselves?" Nemo was stunned.  
  
"Is it me, or does it seem like our lives are getting progressively weirder?" asked Tom flatly.   
  
They stared at the pile. The League members were assembled nearest; the Indian soldiers formed a circle around them.  
  
"Captain, correct me if I'm wrong," said one of the men, "but was there not a cave at this location when we first came this way?"  
  
"I believe so," said Nemo, slowly.  
  
Hyde and Skinner both moved forward and began tearing at the pile of stones. It took the others a second longer to understand before they, too, began to shift the rock.  
  
The pile of stones was so dense that, for a long time, I could not even hear the sounds of them trying to break through it. I was utterly encased in the blackness -- there was nothing to see, nothing to hear. All I could feel was the cold cave floor beneath me. There was also a throbbing pain in my wrist, from when I had been thrown by the statue; it had been sprained in the fall.  
  
I sat in the darkness, wondering what was going to happen. I wondered if my friends were safe, and if they knew where I was, or if I was going to die.   
  
The air began to grow thinner. I felt sleepy, and allowed myself to stretch out on the cave floor. It would not be so bad, I reasoned, to die in this manner; I would simply fall asleep and never wake. Surely my father would have faced such an end bravely, and so could I.  
  
I was, in fact, beginning to fall asleep when I first heard noises. In truth, I did not believe they were real; I assumed I was entering a dream state and merely imagining things. I closed my eyes and stayed where I was, smelling the increasingly stale cavern air and reciting Psalm 23 in my mind. I felt strangely peaceful.  
  
Then the smell of the air changed, and grew slightly fresher. A crack of light appeared beyond my closed eyelids, but again, I thought I was simply dreaming. The crack grew, steadily, and I heard a strange flapping sound before long. Wings. I opened my eyes in time to see a cloud of black bats melting into the slender form of Mina.  
  
"Elizabeth, are you hurt?"  
  
I blinked at her. The air was growing fresher. "Not terribly, no," I said. It was odd; I had so accepted my impending death that life seemed almost incomprehensible. "Is everyone else all right?"  
  
"They're fine. We'll get you out of here. What were you thinking, making those things chase you?" She helped me to sit up.  
  
"I guess I thought it would give the rest of you a chance to escape." It sounded like a ridiculous notion, in light of what followed. She laughed.  
  
"I don't know whether to call you brave or foolish, but all seems to have ended well. Ah, here comes the rescue party now."  
  
I looked up. A large enough hole had been created at the top of the pile for a man to fit through, and one was now scrambling down the inside wall of the pile. "Everything all right in here, then?"  
  
"Yes, she's fine," said Mina. I got shakily to my feet, breathing the increasingly clear air.  
  
"Hyde's formula ran out a minute or so ago," Skinner informed us. "So it's Henry again out there, trying to make the hole bigger. Tom and the Indians are helping, but it's going to be a while, I think. Might be easier to climb back out the hole that's there, if you can manage it."  
  
"I can try. I seem to have hurt my wrist."  
  
"I'll go and let the others know you're all right," said Mina, "since I can get out more easily. Perhaps we can get a rope to help you climb out faster." She changed forms once again and flew away.  
  
Something happened then, which I do intend to recount for this diary -- but not just yet. I wish to think on it a bit more first.  
  
In any event, before too much more time had passed, I was once again standing in the daylight and greeting those dearest to me. We returned to our camp and, over the evening meal, traded accounts of all which had befallen us in the space of the afternoon.   
  
We have decided that, as the worst danger is likely over, we can stay for one more day to explore; however, we have decided not to pursue the search for Choquequirau, nor to make public our apparent discovery of Machu Picchu. We will make our descent of the mountain, return the mules in Cuzco, and navigate our way out of Amazonia. From here, our next visit will be to Washington, D.C. in Tom's America, then a trip by rail to the Midwest to visit his hometown of St. Petersburg.  
  
And now, after the events of today, I am most desirous of a good night's sleep.   
  



	10. An Explanation and a Confession

**The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, vol. III: The Wintering**  
by Lady Norbert  
  


----------

  
  
4 March 1900   
  
We take our leave of Machu Picchu this morning, having viewed our fill of the landscape. It may well be that the lost city will remain lost to civilization for many years to come, but we can say, to each other at least, that we have seen it.  
  
I expect that the trip down the mountain will be no more eventful than the trip up; on the contrary, I hope it is far less eventful. We were very fortunate with our dysentery outbreak that no one died, for it can be fatal. In any case, unless something out of the ordinary should occur, I will leave off updating this diary until we reach Cuzco.  
  


----------

  
  
16 March 1900   
  
Thanks to a distinct lack of illness, we made much better time returning to Cuzco than we made departing it. The mule owner seemed startled to see us again, as though he fully expected us to never return from our trek. Frustrated with the poor communication, Jaya managed to retain the services of a priest who speaks English as well as the local dialect of Spanish, and he translated for us. And now, at last, we know the whole story.  
  
It would seem that there is a legend, handed down for generations, about Machu Picchu. When it was abandoned by the Incas, they left seven stone guardians to keep watch over the city. These guardians were connected, spiritually, to what is called the Intihuatana stone, the "hitching post of the sun." In the days of the Incas, every city held such a stone, and at noon on the spring and autumn equinoxes, the sun shines straight down on the stones and casts no shadow. The stones were believed to contain local gods.   
  
In any event, the stone guardians were to remain in perpetual sleep until the Intihuatana stone of Machu Picchu was disturbed by an outsider. They would then rise and perform one final ritual sacrifice to the sun god, in the hopes of restoring the god's goodwill toward the Incan city.   
  
"That is why you were sealed in the cave, Missee Sahib Quatermain," said Jaya. "It was a sacrifice to the sun god by live burial."  
  
"So that is what the last statue was doing," said Mina. "Before it crumbled, it raised its arms and chanted for a long time -- it must have been declaring the sacrifice to the sun."  
  
The mule owner said something then, which seemed to embarrass the priest slightly. To me, he said carefully, "_Senorita_, you are not married?"  
  
"Er, no, I'm not."  
  
"That is why you were chosen," he replied. "According to the legend, the final sacrifice was to be a...pure sacrifice."  
  
"Oh." Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. "I see."  
  
"Well," the priest continued, "if what you say is true, then the legend has been fulfilled and may be safely forgotten. The Incan city should hold no further danger for anyone."  
  
"We're pleased to have been of service," I said dryly.   
  
The mules returned to their rightful owner, we will spend tonight in a hotel here in Cuzco, then tomorrow make our way back to the Apurimac and the _Nautilus_.   
  


----------

  
  
18 March 1900   
  
Oh, home sweet home; how wonderful to see this submarine again!  
  
I have not forgotten that my account of the events in Machu Picchu is incomplete. I have been over it many times now, and I think I can accurately report on what occurred in the cave after Mina left.  
  
We watched her fly out through the opening, and then Skinner looked at me. "Are you really all right?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, I think so. Is everyone else really all right?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Fine." There was a pause.  
  
Quite without warning, he wrapped his arms around me. Startled, but moved, I reciprocated. We remained thus for a long moment.  
  
"Don't you _ever_ do that again, you hear?" His voice was low and rough in my ear. "I mean it. Promise me, Elizabeth."  
  
Elizabeth. Not Bess, or Bessie, but Elizabeth. I'd never heard him speak my full name before. I gave him a promise, and he released me. I had a hard time breathing, suddenly, which I don't believe had anything to do with the air in the cave -- because at that moment, I knew.  
  
I know why he gave me his mother's locket. I know why he stayed with me throughout my illness. I know the reason behind a thousand different things.  
  
I am finding it difficult, even now, to write this properly. I cannot seem to stop trembling. I have suspected it on occasion, but always before I convinced myself it was untrue. Now, though, I am very nearly certain of it; certain enough, at least, to write it down.  
  
Rodney Skinner loves me.  
  
I'm almost sure of it. Indeed, I am almost as sure that he loves me...as I am sure that I love him.  
  
There. I admitted it. But confessing it to this diary is about all I am able to do. Unless he decides to say something on the matter, there is nothing else to be done, for I cannot be the one to state my feelings first. It's just not done -- and even if it were, the possibility that I am misreading his intentions is enough to terrify me into silence.  
  
So, for this reason, I must act as though all is normal and nothing is the least bit unusual between us. In a sense, nothing has changed; if this truly is his feeling for me, then it has been this way for some time, as it has been on my part. I must simply pretend not to have realized it until such time as he makes a more formal declaration. And if he never does, well, at least I can enjoy the knowledge that we need never be separated.  
  
Speaking of acting as though all is normal...  
  
He just came now and knocked. "Bess?"  
  
"Come in."  
  
The door opened, and a shirt and pair of trousers stepped into the room. "It's raining again," he said. "Tom's so bored he's proposing a backgammon tournament in the library. You up for it?"  
  
"I'll be right there."  
  
_Here ends this stage of Miss Elizabeth Quatermain's adventures with the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Look for further peril and pandemonium in volume four, "Only in America," coming soon._   
  



	11. The Volume III FAQ

**_The Private Diary of Elizabeth Quatermain, volume III: Author's Notes and Acknowledgements _**  
  
As always, I feel the burning desire to clear up a whole bunch of minor plot points. If you have a question that isn't answered here, leave it in a review/comment and I'll update the FAQ to include the answer.  
  
**About this whole sordid plot**  
  
_What was it they ate at the end of chapter one, the rice and lamb stuffed in grape leaves?_  
  
That's a traditional Greek dish called papadakis. I suppose Elizabeth ought to have been able to pronounce it, or at least spell it, because it's not as hard as I thought it was going to be. When I wrote the first chapter, I couldn't remember what it was called, and I was thinking of a much longer and more difficult Greek word.   
  
_I know diamonds are traditional engagement stones, but what's this about garnets being the jewel of truth and faith?_   
  
The Victorians assigned meaning to a lot of things, including gemstones. I took the meanings of diamonds and garnets from a list of the virtues associated with various jewels during the Victorian era. I really wanted to follow a different Victorian custom with Mina's engagement ring, actually; they often spelled words in gemstones, using the first letter of each stone. (For instance, if Elizabeth were getting a ring that spelled "Bess," the stones could be beryl, emerald, sapphire and sapphire -- b, e, s, s.) I thought that was just too cute...but I couldn't work out stones to spell any appropriate words. So Mina got a diamond and garnet ring instead, to symbolize Henry's faithfulness.   
  
_Why are they partying so much in this installment? There's the engagement dinner, Thanksgiving, the wedding feast, Christmas...what's the deal?_  
  
Well, although this third volume does have a fair bit of action in the later chapters, its true overriding purpose is to illustrate the characters and how they relate to one another. You could say they're making memories in this installment -- don't we all have memories of our families on special occasions? And I wanted to show that they really are, in their odd way, a family.   
  
_Where did you get the toasts from the engagement dinner?_  
  
Various sources. The Hindustani translation is accurate, and really is a traditional Indian blessing (though usually offered at weddings, not engagement parties). Skinner's toast really is a Scottish toast, and Henry's really is Irish. Elizabeth and Tom's toasts are of uncertain origin, but were commonly offered at Victorian weddings.   
  
_What was the issue with Mina's wedding dress and the whole "married in blue" business?_  
  
Again, the Victorians assigned meaning to practically everything -- especially everything to do with a wedding! Actually, before Queen Victoria herself got married, a bride could wear very nearly any color she wanted; Victoria was the one who popularized the white gown. Second-time brides in the Victorian era were not supposed to wear white, however, and all brides took into consideration this little poem, which explained the rationale behind certain colors:   
  
_Married in white, you have chosen right.  
Married in green, ashamed to be seen.  
Married in grey, you'll go far away.  
Married in red, you'll wish yourself dead.  
Married in blue, your love will be true.  
Married in yellow, you're ashamed of your fellow.  
Married in black, you'll wish yourself back.  
Married in pink, your spirits will sink.  
Married in brown, you'll live out of town.  
Married in pearl and you'll live in a whirl.  
_  
As you can see, if a Victorian lady wanted her marriage to be happy, she didn't have too many options for the color of her gown.  
  
_Will we ever see Skinner's niece Alexandra?_  
  
We may. I'm not completely certain yet. There is a distinct possibility we'll meet her in the fifth volume, but it's not definite. Keep in mind that she doesn't remember Uncle Rodney at all, being only a toddler when her mother threw him out.   
  
_Why the choice of Skinner's birthday?_   
  
December 13th is the birthday of Tony Curran, the hunk -- I mean, actor who plays Skinner in the movie. Since we know absolutely nothing about Skinner, it seemed like a reasonable way to choose.   
  
_Why was Tom pretending to be Elizabeth's husband?_  
  
This goes back to a conversation they had in the first volume, when Tom first told Elizabeth about Becky Thatcher; Elizabeth responded with her own story, about how she had to serve as a bridal attendant when her best friend married the man she would have chosen for herself. Adding insult to injury, said bridegroom was interested in Elizabeth but decided she didn't have enough money. Robert Stuart was the man in question, and Constance was the friend for whom Elizabeth had been the bridesmaid. Tom, fortunately, has a very good memory, and put on the ruse to save Elizabeth from admitting her "old maid" status. (In Victorian times, a 20-year-old girl with no evident marriage prospects was on her way to being a spinster.) Connie was particularly flustered by the news, because our boy Sawyer is better-looking and younger than Robert Stuart, plus has the novelty aspect of being obviously American.   
  
_It was cute the way the others all gave her diaries for Christmas, but what was the real meaning behind Skinner giving Elizabeth his mother's locket?_  
  
It had about the same meaning as Elizabeth giving Skinner her father's shaving set, which is approximately this: You mean a lot to me and this is the safest way for me to tell you.   
  
_Are there really pink dolphins in the Amazon?_  
  
There really are. The Boto are very shy and simply adorable. They actually come in two colors, pink and black, and the pink ones are said to be dangerous -- something Elizabeth didn't know, though she was quite safe in the submarine.   
  
_You describe dysentery as a "messy condition." What is it, exactly?_  
  
Dysentery is...ooh. Nasty. It's a stomach inflammation. Common symptoms include nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting. Less common symptoms include high fever, such as Elizabeth developed. It's spread through tainted food or water, or through contact with an infected person. Elizabeth had it as badly as she did (as compared to, say, Tom) because of caring for so many sick persons at once. Mina was immune to the illness because of her "nature," so she could look after the men without risk to her health; she tried to prevent Elizabeth from catching it by assigning her to the cooking and water preparation, but Elizabeth is stubborn and wanted to help.   
  
_Did Skinner really stay by her side the entire time she was ill?_  
  
He really did...much to the amusement of the other League members. Not that they said anything about it, of course. They're far too tactful.   
  
_This business with the stone guardians and the live burial...that's all nonsense, right?_  
  
Yes and no. The Incas really did routinely perform human sacrifices, and burying people alive (children, frequently) was one of their most common methods. The stone guardians, of course, are pure fabrication. The lost city of Machu Picchu was really -- or should I say, officially? -- rediscovered in 1911 by Hiram Bingham, an archaeologist from Yale University. (I figure by that time, the vegetation would have grown back sufficiently to make it look like the League had never been there. Which they weren't. Really.)  
  
_Well, looks like we finally know where her love life is heading. Does this mean we'll eventually see an edition of "The Private Diary of Elizabeth Skinner"?_  
  
(Yes, I've really been asked this.) I'm not making any promises. After all, can you be so certain she's going to marry Skinner? There _is_ a wedding coming up in the next part of the series, but I can tell you right now that Skinner is not the bridegroom. All I can say for the moment is that you'll have to wait and see!   
  
**Credits, thanks, and all that jazz**  
  
The basic premise of this story series is based upon the film _The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_, released in theaters July 11, 2003. The film in turn was based on the series of graphic novels of the same name by Alan Moore. In a general sort of way, everything you read in this series is the property of the much more clever people who were involved in those two projects, and I made absolutely no financial profit from the use thereof. The stories in this series were written out of affection and appreciation for the original works on which they were based.   
  
The characters of Dr. Henry Jekyll and Mr. Edward Hyde are from _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ by Robert Louis Stevenson.   
  
The character of Wilhelmina Harker is from _Dracula_ by Bram Stoker.  
  
The character of Allan Quatermain is from _King Solomon's Mines, Allan Quatermain, The Ivory Child_, and other stories and novels by H. Rider Haggard.  
  
The character of Captain Nemo and his amazing _Nautilus_ are from _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ by Jules Verne.  
  
The character of Rodney Skinner is patterned, loosely, after the original Invisible Man, from the book _The Invisible Man_ by H. G. Wells. Personally, I prefer Skinner's company, but that's just me.  
  
The character of Tom "Special Agent" Sawyer is from _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Tom Sawyer Abroad, _and_ Tom Sawyer, Detective,_ all by Mark Twain.  
  
_A Christmas Carol_ is by Charles Dickens. You can't possibly write a Victorian Christmas scene without at least some vague reference to that book, now, can you? :)  
  
_Much Ado About Nothing_ is one of William Shakespeare's comedies. Benedick and Beatrice are the main characters.   
  
The only things to which I can lay legitimate claim are the personality of Elizabeth (who says that she is perfectly capable of owning that herself, thank you very much) and a number of other original characters, including the Stuarts and first mate Jaya.   
  
The information presented in Elizabeth's diary this time around came from a variety of sources. My friend Stargazer was responsible for providing me with a lot of the facts about the Parthenon. The research I did on Victorian Christmas celebrations was made much easier thanks to a wide number of Victorian enthusiasts on the web, who are simply too numerous to list here. A lot of my knowledge about the Amazon river wildlife and history comes from a computer game called _Amazon Trail, 3rd Edition_, for which I wrote a walkthrough that was published on a website called GameFAQs -- I pulled up the walkthrough files while writing. Information about the lost Incan cities also came primarily from the web. Though I hope that it's primarily entertaining, one could make the argument that this fan fiction series is also somewhat educational.   
  
I owe thank-yous to a whole bunch of people. The response to this series has been incredibly overwhelming, and I really need to say thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. The reviews and personal emails have touched me more than you can ever know. Special thanks must be rendered unto Settiai (who runs the League of Extraordinary Fanfiction), Tobiassilverstreak (who sent me some beautiful fan art based on this series), and my two devoted "minions," Miss Kathleen and Stargazer, who love to encourage other people to read the series. Stargazer is also my most prolific fan artist! Another special thank-you goes to Crystal Nox, who made a tiny suggestion in one of her reviews that I found appealing enough to use -- so thank you for the inspiration, Crystal! I also owe an immeasurable debt to my friend Teri, who acts as my beta reader and provides a host of support and helpful suggestions; I don't post a new chapter until she's had a chance to read it first, and approved everything. Thanks must also be given to my best friend Jessica, for very similar reasons. Oh, and I would be terribly remiss if I didn't say thank you to my husband Kevin, for putting up with this insanity.  
  
I call this series "The Fanfiction That Ate My Brain" because of how important it has become to me. I even gave it its own section of my (already too big) website, complete with all the reviews I've gotten, a comprehensive FAQ, profiles of each of the characters, and the wonderful pieces of fan art that readers have so generously shared with me. If you'd be interested in checking it out, please view my profile -- there's a link to the website there.   
  
I'm going to take a little bit of a break from the series before settling in to write the American adventure (by which I mean something like a week). Don't worry; I'm sure it won't be long until the characters start nagging me to resume telling their story! Thanks for everything, and as always -- cheers, my freaky darlings!   
  
_Lady Norbert_  
  



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